<  r/ 


// 


POETICAL   SCRAPS 

AND 

SCRIBBLINGS, 

WRITTEN  BY  M.  II.  JEXKS, 

FROM  EARLY   BOYHOOD  TO  SEVENTY-TWO  YEARS  OF  AGE, 

AND   PRINTED   AT    THE   REQUEST    OF 
HIS   CHILDREN  AND   GRAND-CHILDREN. 


'  <  Gather  up  the  fragments, 
Let  nothin     be  lost."  —  Franklin. 


I  frequently,  to  kill  the  time, 
Take  up  my  pen  and  make  a  rhyme  ; 
And  though  the  babbling  world  can  see, 
It  profits  none—  it  pleases  me. 


DOYLESTOWN. 
HEJfRY  T.  DARtlNGtON,  PRINTER. 

1867. 


NOTE. — My  children  and  grand-children,  for  several  years  past,  have 
been  persuading  me  to  have  some  of  my  poetical  scraps  and  pieces 
printed,  and  at  last  I  have  consented  to  gratify  them.  They  are  not 
intended  for  the  public  eye.  nor  to  be  read  by  the  critic.  A  feic  of 
them  possess  some  merit,  but  many  are  light  and  chaffy,  and  hardly 
worthy  of  publication ;  but  such  as  they  are.  if  they  are  valued  by  my 
children,  it  is  all  I  expect  or  desire. 

M.   H.  JEXKS. 

JULY,  1867. 


Stack 

Annex 


CONTEXTS. 


PROMIS-CUOUS  PIECES.  PAGE. 

My  First  Mary, 7 

To  my  First  Mary, 8 

My  First  Mary's  Orange  Tree, 8 

The  Name  of  Mary, 9 

My  Second  Mary, 10 

Lines  to  my  "Wife  Ann, 11 

To  my  Wife  Ann, 12 

Lines  occasioned  by  attending  the  Funeral  of  a  Loved  Friend,..  14 

Tear. — In  imitation  of  Byron, 15 

MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Melody. — In  imitation  of  Moore's  "Nothing  true  but  Heaven,"..  19 

To  Sleep, 20 

Ode  to  Love, 21 

To  Pleasure, 22 

To  Narcissa, 24 

Moments  Spent  with  those  I  Love, 25 

Spring, 26 

The  Lark's  Nest, 28 

Reflections  on  the  Death  of  a  Father, 29 

To  the  Mumps, 32 

To  Health, 33 

Woman, 34 

Lines  on  the  Death  of  Mary  Landis, 35 

The  Smile, 36 

The  Seasons, 37 

Rural  Stanzas. — A  Scene  on  the  Brandywine, 38 

ODES  TO  NESIIAMINY. 

No.  I., 41 

No.  II., 42 

No.  III., 43 

No.  IV., 45 

No.  V., 47 

To  Eliza, 48 


CONTEXTS. 


BOYHOOD  SCRIBBLIXGS.  PAGE. 

Lines  to  Miss  S,..,  S.^^^r, 53 

Acrostic  No.  I., 54 

Acrostic  No.  II., 55 

Acrostic  No.  III., 56 

To  Miss  „.„, 57 

To  Hannah, 58 

POETRY  AND  RHYMES. 

To  a  Beautiful  Woman, 61 

Song* — In  imitation  of  "  Bendemere's  Stream," 62 

To  S.,.h,- 63 

Effusions  of  Feeling. — To  one  who  tinderstands  them, 64 

To  Emma, 66 

The  Bard's  Petition.— A.  Parody, 67 

To  Susan, 6D 

Verses  written  in  an  Album  of  a  fair  Friend, 70 

Lines  altered  from  Moore, 71 

To  "  Spungers," 71 

Lines  supposed   to  have  been  written  by  my  wife  Nancy, 72 

Lines  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  a  young  friend  of  mine,  73 

To  Hannah, 74 

Lines  of  Regret, 75 

Impromptu. — Written  at  Cape  May,  July,  1843, 75 

A  Request  of  a  Friend, 7G 

To  a  fair  and  valued  Friend, 77 

To  T.^y  J..»,y, 78 

To  Sallie, 78 

Farewell  to  Illinois, 79 

To  a  Friend, 80 

Letter  to  my  dear  wife  Ann, 80 

Lines  written  in  my  young  friend  Julia's  Album, 81 

Scraps, 82 

Lines  supposed  to  be  written  by  an  old  Bachelor  of  our  town,..  83 

To  Ann, 84 

Lines  in  an  Advertisement  for  the  sale  of  a  Drove  of  Hogs, ....  84 

LETTERS  FROM  CAPE  MAY. 

Letter  No.  I., 87 

Letter  No.  II., 90 

Letter  No.  III., 93 

Letter  No.  IV., 97 

Letter  No.  V., 100 

Letter  No.  VI., 103 


PROMISCUOUS  PIECES. 


MY  FIRST  MARY. 


The  leaves  of  Autumn  fade, 
The  scenes  of  Nature  vary; 

But  God,  in  wisdom,  made 
Thee  free  from  changes,  Mary. 

From  'paths  of  rectitude 
Thy  feet  depart  but  rarely, 

And  seldom  aught  but  good 
Is  heard  or  known  of  Mary. 

If  (as  is  oft  the  case,) 

Things  show  themselves  contrary, 
No  anger  burns  thy  face — 

Wise,  prudent,  pious  Mary. 

Oh !  while  this  Life  is  thine — 

And  long  may  Heaven  spare  thce; 

May  health  and  strength  combine, 
With  happiness,  in  Mary. 

And  when  the  God  of  Love, 

Is  pleased  from  Earth  to  tear  thcc, 

Peace  to  thy  soul  above— 
Jtest  to  thy  ashes,  Mary. 


8  PROMISCUOUS    PIECES. 

TO  MY  FIRST  MARY. 

"  As  free  as  air  I  roved  till  now." 

So  long  had  I  run,  through  Life's  brambles, 
Unentangled  by  Love,  or  the  Fair, 

I'd  begun  to  conclude  that  my  rambles 
Were  ever  to  be,  "  free  as  air." 

But,  alas!  'tis  in  vain  to  deny  it, 
The  wound  is  too  deep  to  conceal. 

Dear  girl,  thou  hast  ruined  my  quiet — 
Oh!  be  my  physician,  and  heal. 


Adieu!  ye  departed,  sweet  hours, 

And  must  I  ne'er  know  such  again  ? 
There  ever  is  something,  which  sours 

pathway  through  Time,  and  gives  pain. 


MY  FIRST  MARY'S  ORANGE  TREE. 


'Tis  the  last  living  thing  that  was  hers — the  old  Orange 
Tree, 

And  its  deep-green  leaf  never  varies  ; 
Though  others  don't  value  the  relic,  'tis  valued  by  me  ; 

I  love  it,  because  it  was  Mary's. 


PROMISCUOUS    PIECES.  9 

Yes !  I  love  it,  because  it  was  hers.     She  took  a  delight 
In  smelling  its  blossoms,  and  cleaning  its  limbs. 

The  old  Orange  Tree — let  it  live,  'tis  a  beautiful  sight; 
Deem  me  weak,  if  you  please — 'tis  one  of  my  whims. 

I  have  nursed  it  in  winter — the  frost  has  not  nipt  it ; 

It  has  blossoms  and  fruit  on  it,  yellow  and  green. 
As  her  last-living  sJirub,  I  have  nourished  and  kept  it, 

And  as  long  as  /  live,  may  it  live  and  be  seen ! 


THE  NAME  OF  MAltY. 


"  I  love  it — I  love  it — and  will  any  one  dare"  me 

To  chide,  for  loving  the  sweet  name  of  MARY. 

My  mother,  she  bears  it;  'tis  a  dear  wife's  name; 

The  name  of  a  sister,  and  my  earliest  flame. 

There  a  grave  near  my  home,  it  has  been  there  for  years, 

Which  I  frequently  visit,  and  water  with  tears. 

Do  you  ask  me,  why  I  weep  o'er  the  sod 

Of  one  who  reposes  in  peace  with  her  God? 

A  MARY  sleeps  there — I  shall  never  forget  her — 

The  friend  of  my  youth — a  truer,  a  better 

Ne'er  liv'd;  but  she's  gone,  and  I  will  not  complain, 

While  others,  so  like  her,  on  earth  yet  remain. 

I  love  it — I  love  it,  and  will  any  one  dare  me 

To  chide,  for  loving  the  sweet  name  of  MARY. 


10  PROMISCUOUS    PIECES. 


MY  SECOND  MARY. 


I  wept  when  she  left  me,  and  often  weep  yet, 
When  I  look  on  the  grave  where  she's  sleeping; 

And  wrong  it  may  be  to  shed  tears  of  regret; 
But  I  loved  her,  and  cannot  help  weeping. 

She  has  left  me  alone,  to  seek  for  content, 
Through  the  balance  of  time  yet  remaining, 

With  a  spirit  bowed  down  and  happiness  rent; 
But,  as  man,  I  submit,  uncomplaining. 

I  oft  smile  with  the  crowd,  am  light  with  the  gay, 
And  mv  countenance  indicates  gladness ; 

*/  o 

Yet  that  smile  is  fictitious — soon  passing  away, 
Succeeded  by  gloom  and  by  sadness. 

Humanity's  bark,  through  the  ocean  of  Life, 
Meets  with  winds  and  with  waves  oft  contrary;. 

And  hard  is  the  blast  to  sustain,  when  a  wife 
Is  torn  from  the  earth,  such  as  Mary. 

I  wept  when  she  left  me,  and  often  weep  yet, 
When  I  look  on  the  grave  where  she's  sleeping; 

And  wrong  it  may  be  to  shed  tears  of  regret, 
But  I  lov'd  her,  and  cannot  help  weeping. 

January  20,  1850. 


PROMISCUOUS   1'IKCEH, 


LINES  TO  MY  WIFE 


Well,  Xancy,  my  girl,  one  year  has  departed, 

Since  the  knot  was  tied  fast,  that  holds  and  can't  sJiji! 

And  I  love  thec  as  well  as  the  day  that  we  started, 
To  travel  together  on  Life's  chequered  trip. 

They  may  say  what  they  will  'bout  flowers  and  roses, 
That  they  always  smell  sweetest  when  first  they  are 
blown ; 

But  it's  not  so  with  Nancy — she's  one  of  i\\Q posies 
Emitting  a  fragrance  the  whole  summer  long. 

They  may  talk  of  sweet  lasses,  from  eighteen  to  thirty, 
With  their  snowy-white  bosoms  and  checks  like  the  rose', 

Yet  they're  often  coquettish,  deceitful  and  flirty, 
While  Nancy  gets  sweeter  the  older  she  grows. 

'Tis  true,  on  thy  cheeks  Time  has  dug  a  few  ditches, 
And  torn  from  thy  forehead  the  black  shining  curls. 

My  Nancy  can't  sing,  dance  and  romp  with  those  witches, 
But  she's  worth  a  whole  dozen  of  giddy  young  girls. 

Then  let  us  jog  on  down  Life's  railroad  together, 
We've  taken  our  seats  in  the  afternoon  train ; 

Let  it  rain,  hail  and  blow — no  matter  for  weather — 
We  go  Life's  excursion,  come  pleasure  or  pain. 


PROMISCUOUS   PIECES. 


And  when  we've  arrived  at  tlic  Station,  at  even, 
And  humanity's  trip  has  come  to  an  end  — 

As  we  enter  the  Depot,  at  the  portal  of  Heaven, 

May  we  hear  the  sweet  language:  —  'faithful  servants 
pass  in. 


TO  MY  WIFE  ANN. 


I've  been  looking  back  to  boyhood,  Ann, 
When,  by  the  winding  stream, 

I  walked  with  thee,  but  dare  not  speak 
Of  Love's  delicious  theme. 

When  thy  cheeks  were  like  two  roses,  Ann, 
Thy  skin  was  white  as  snow — 

When  thee  was  a  most  charming  girl, 
K"ear  forty  years  ago. 

I've  been  thinking  of  the  old  house,  Ann, 

Where  we  often  used  to  sit, 
Along  with  those  we  loved  so  well — - 

(And  love  their  memory  yet.) 

The  grass  is  growing  o'er  their  graves, 
They've  left  this  world  of  woe; 

And  though  it  seems  but  yesterday, 
'T  near  forty  years  ago. 


PROMISG'UOITS  PIECES.  13 

We're  growing  old  together,  Ann, 

And,  strange  as  is  the  past, 
Near  the  end  of  our  pilgrimage, 

We  're  man  and  wife  at  last. 

Thus  Providence  has  willed  it,  Ann, 

And  few  will  ever  know, 
Why  we  were  not  made  man  and  wife, 

Near  forty  years  ago. 

In  looking  round  about  us,  Ann, 

I  find  that  most  of  those, 
Who  were  our  old  associates, 

Beneath  the  sod  repose. 

Yes!  Death  has  thinned  their  ranks,  dear  Ann,' 

One  by  one  lay  low, 
Andjfew  are  left  of  those  we  loved, 

Near  forty  years  ago. 

But  let  us  not  be  gloomy,  Ann, 

We've  yet  enough  to  love; 
Although  we've  lost  so  many  friends, 

We  trust  they  dwell  above. 

Then  let  us  try  to  meet  them,  Ann, 

When  Death  shall  strike  the  blow, 
And  be  prepared,  as  two  dear  ones 

Were,  forty  years  ago.  t 

February  22,  1853, 


14  PROMISCUOUS   PIECES. 

LINES 

Occasioned  ~by  attending  the  Funeral  of  a  Loved  Friend. 


I  turned  from  her  grave,  with  the  usual  feeling 

Which  presides  o'er  the  bosom  at  scenes  of  the  kind, 

And  the  tear  which  my  pride  had  a  choice  in  concealing, 
Gently  drops  by  the  spot  where  her  shade  was  consigned. 

I  thought  of  those  moments  of  social  communion, 
Of  enjoyment,  improvement,  and  innocent  mirth, 

I  had  spent  in  the  sweets  of  reciprocal  union, 

With  thai  form  which  is  now  but  a  clod  of  the  earth. 

Those  moments  are  blighted,  the  Rose  has  ceas'd  blowing, 
The  frost  of  Mortality  nipt  the  fair  stem, 

And  those  who  partook  of  its  fragrance,  while  glowing, 
Acknowledge  the  loss  of  a  favorite  Gem. 


- 


Farewell  to  her  shade,  and  may  memory  ever 

Keep  fresh  in  my  bosom  her  precepts  once  given ; 

We  are  parted  on  earth,  and  all  flesh  must  sever, 

Yet  Hope  sweetly  whispers :  "Souls  meet  in  Heaven.' 

Then  adieu  to  her  shade, — I  ask  not  her  return, 
For  friendships,  the  firmest,  are  known  oft  to  vary, 

And  perhaps  had  she  lived, — no,  I  never  could  learn 
To  forget  and  disclaim  the  friendship  of  Mary. 


PROMISCUOUS    PIECES.  If) 


*     TEAR. 

IN    IMITATION    OF    HYROX. 


When  wo  take  a  fond  view, 

And  bid  those  adieu, 
Whose  presence  we  prize  ever  dear, 

Pride  strives  to  conceal 

What  we  inwardly  feel, 
But  the  eye  will  betray  with  a  Tear. 

On  the  pillow  of  rest 

The  moments  pass  blest 
In  the  memory  of  pleasures  sincere ; 

But  alas,  empty  thought, 

They  have  been,  they  are  not, 
And  their  only  remains  is  a  Tear. 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 


MELODY. 

In  imitation  of  Moore's  "  Nothing  true  but  Heaven." 


This  world  is  but  a  shifting  stage — • 

A  various  colored  curtain  ; 
The  Book  of  Life,  from  Youth  to  Age, 
Has  this  inscription  on  each  page: 

There's  naught  but  Death, — that's  certain. 

Friendship  's  as  rare  as  happiness,' — 
The  path  through  Time  's  uneven  ; 
And  those  who  search  this  world  for  bliss, 
Will  search  in  vain — -'tis  not  in  this, 
And  only  found  in  Heaven. 

Poor  man  surveys  the  chequer'd  streaks 

Of  Life's  delusive  Curtain, 
And  thus  from  sad  experience  speaks, 
While  tears  of  woe  descend  his  cheeks, 

There's  naught  but  Death  that 's  certain, 

The  glow  of  Wealth — the  wreath  of  Fame 

To  man  is  often  given  ; 
But  soon  he's  left  with  but  a  name, 
For  "  dust  returns  to  dust  again," 

And  nothing  lasts  but  Heaven. 

1818. 


20  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


TO  SLEEP. 


Come,  welcome,  silent  and  refreshing  guest, 
Spread  thy  dark  veil  upon  my  wearied  mind, 

Dis-pel  all  gloom  with  which  I  am  opprest, 
And  for  a  time  all  care  let  me  resign. 

Shut  close  the  curtains  of  my  heavy  sight, 

And  bless  my  spirit  with  thy  soothing  power ; 

Yes  !  precious  visitant,  and  friend  of  night, 
For  my  past  toils  grant  me  one  quiet  hour. 

Then  will  I  rise,  refreshed  by  thee  anew — 
Confess  thy  kindness,  with  a  grateful  mind, 

And  cheerfully,  again  my  work  pursue 

In  joy  and  peace,  and  with  a  will  resigned, 

Let  no  unhappy  dreams  disturb  my  breast, 
Nor  let  wild  fancy  paint  deceptive  pleasure  ; 

Ah !  once  again,  sweet  sleep,  let  me  be  blest, 
Thou  tranquil  friend  of  darkness  and  of  leisure. 

Sink  in  oblivion  all  those  bustling  cares, 
Which  in  my  mind  so  uninvited  creep ; 

And  draw  thyjwburn  scenery,  which  prepares 
All  flesh  to  taste  of  thee,  sweet  gentle  sleep, 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  21 


ODE  TO  LOVE. 


Hail  soothing  power,  whose  soft  endearing  sigh. 

Creates  emotion  in  the  youthful  breast  — 
Whose  tears  flow  smoothly  from  the  heavy  eye, 

And  cause  sensations  not  to  be  expressed. 

Offspring  of  Friendship,  Eden  gave  thee  birth  — 
'T  was  there  that  mortals  first  enjoy  'd  thy  bliss; 

But  oh!  alas,  sweet  seraph  of  the  earth, 
Thy  joys  are  mingled  with  unkappiness. 

'T  is  thine,  oil  Love  !  to  rouse  the  tranquil  mind 
From  selfish  pleasure  to  describeless  pain  ; 

To  fancy  earthly  bliss,  'tis  also  thine, 
But  often  doom'd  a  bitter  cup  to  drain. 


Destructive  ^/fflw&s/  —  oft  has  the  rosy  cheek 

Been  robb'd  by  thee,  of  its  enchanting  bloom  ; 

Oft  hast  thou  caused  the  frantic  swain  to  seek 
Repose  in  battle's  laurel-covered  tomb. 

Oft  hast  thou  made  the  youthful  stripling  brave 
The  swelling  waters  of  the  "  dark  blue  sea," 

And  find,  in  some  retired  spot,  a  grave 
Far  from  the  land  of  his  nativity. 


22  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

Then  far  from  me,  thou  ruling  passion,  keep — 
Thy  swaying  power  let  me  never  feel ; 

JXVer  let  thy  throbbings  in  my  bosom  creep, 

When  from  sweet  H ,  a  smile  I  chance  to  steal. 

1815. 


My  folly  has  left  me — the  pang  has  passed  over, 
For  one  kind  of  feelings  do  not  last  forever, 

And  the  throbs  which  within  my  bosom  did  hover, 
Have  departed,  and  I  have  forgotten — JVo,  never  ! 


TO  PLEASURE. 


Come,  sweet  animating  pleasure, 
Lovely,  smiling,  cheerful  friend : 

Companion  sought  in  hours  of  leisure, 
Again  thy  blessed  influence  lend. 

Come,  with  all  thy  train  attended, 
Dear  Content  and  blooming  Joy  ; 

Bliss  on  Earth,  from  Heaven  descended, 
Love  which  cnvv  can't  annov. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  23 

Come  in  haste,  with  rapture  greeting, 

Swell  my  bosom  with  delight ; 
Be  thou  social,  not  too  fleeting, 

Let  fruition  fill  my  sight. 

Come,  sweet  guest,  bestow  thy  power, 

Once  again  the  sail  unfurl ; 
Again  let  me  a  precious  hour 

Spend  with  Rosa,  lovely  girl. 

Come,  thou  often  sought  for  treasure, 

Make  thy  smile  my  pleasing  fate ; 
Hover  round,  ecstatic  pleasure, 

Do  thou  not  procrastinate. 

Make  me  bid  adieu  to  sorrow, 

Drive  all  gloom  afar  away ; 
Let  me  taste  thy  sweets  to-morrow, 

As  well  as  airy  mirth  to-day. 

Time 's  a  pest  without  thy  power — 

Life  's  a  waste  of  gloomy  years ; 
Pleasure — fragrant,  precious  flower, 

Thou  art  never  seen  in  tears. 

1816. 


24  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

TO  NARCISSA. 

Since  Jiope  has  departed  forever, 

And  pleasure  lias  fled  from  my  view ; 

Since  fate  lias  decreed  we  must  sever, 
And  forced  me  to  bid  thee  adieu, — 

Since  fortune  has  filled  me  with  sorrow,, 
Since  Love  unreturned  's  but  a  dream, 

I  ask,  dear  Narcissa,  to  borrow 
Thy  friendship  and  warmest  esteem. 

Since  thou  art  possessed  by  another,. 

Of  love  more  deserving  than  me, 
May  forgetfulness  teach  me  to  smother 

The  flame  which  I  cherished  for  thee, 

As  I  pass  through  this  valley  of  sorrow 
In  search  of  felicity's  gleam, 

I  ask,  dear  Narcissa,  to  borrow 

Thy  friendship  and  warmest  esteem. 

Since  frail  is  mortality's  creature, 
Allured  by  the  bloom  of  the  rose  ; 

And  the  life  which  is  given  to  nature 
Is  chequered  with  pleasures  and  woes. 

Though  cloudy  to-day,  yet  to-morrow 
The  sun  may  enchantingly  beam, 

And  I,  dear  Ts"arcissa,  may  borrow 
Thy  friendship  and  warmest  esteem. 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES.  25 

MOMENTS  SPENT  WITH  THOSE  I  LOVE." 


Awake  my  muse,  once  more  thy  aid  I  ask — 
Tune  thy  soft  lyre,  perform  the  pleasing  task ; 
Yes  !  lovely  power,  thy  precious  help  bestow, 
And  let  my  breast  again  with  transport  glow ; 
Compose  my  mind,  and  let  my  fancy  rove 
Back  to  the  moments  spent  with  those  I  Love. 

Blest  moments  past — alas  !  forever  gone — 

Yet  oft  in  memory  your  delights  return ; 

Oft  when  I  've  strayed  along  the  winding  stream,. 

Where  Friendship's  pure  and  animating  theme 

Has  made  my  heart  with  soft  emotions  move, 

I  've  thought  of  moments  spent  with  those  I  Love. 

Departed  hours,  to  recollection  sweet, 
How  oft  have  I,  on  some  sequestered  seat, 
Retraced  your  joys — reviewed  your  transient  bliss, 
And  felt  the  precious  thrills  of  happiness  ; 
Then  oh !  my  muse,  again  let  fancy  rove 
Back  to  the  moments  spent  with  those  I  Love. 

Dear  to  my  heart  are  hours  of  leisure  spent 

With  those  whom  Heaven  the  charms  of  earth  hath  lent 

Yea !  dear  are  thoughts  extended  towards  those 

For  whom  my  breast  with  tender  passion  glows ; 

Then  oh !  my  muse,  again  let  fancy  rove 

Back  to  the  moments  spent  with  those  I  Love.- 


26  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

SPRING. 


'Twas  the  season  of  Spring,  when  green  tinged  the  forests, 
And  the  face  of  the  landscape  looked  smiling  and  gay ; 

The  feathered  musicians  were  heard  on  the  branches, 
With  sweetness  and  melody  chanting  their  lay. 

The  breezes  were  calm,  pure,  light  and  refreshing, 
The  welkin  was  clear — not  a  cloud  dimm'd  the  scene; 

Creation  seemed  cheerful,  each  prospect  looked  pleasant, 
And  nature's  gay  aspect  was  bright  and  serene, 

The  streams  were  all  full,  transparent  as  crystal, 

And  smooth  were  their  ebbings,  in  murmurings  low ; 

The  meadows  smelt  sweet  from  flowers  new  opening, 
And  green  vegetation  'gan  richly  to  grow. 

Yes !  such  was  the  time,  when  filled  with  reflections, 
Touch'd  with  the  sublime,  and  impressively  sweet, 

My  wandering  muse,  at  the  foot  of  Parnassus, 
Asked  awhile  the  permission  of  taking  a  seat. 

Indulgence  was  granted,  and  oh  !  how  delighted 

My  muse  seemed  to  dwell  on  the  rude  scenes  around ; 

It  was  eve,  and  the  western  horizon  was  skirted 
With  the  rich  glaring  color  of  gold  to  the  ground. 

A  few  twinkling  stars  sparkled  bright  in  the  heavens, 
But  night's  "silver  queen"  was  conceal'd  from  the  sight; 

The  curtain  of  darkness  around  was  fast  falling, 
And  the  galaxy  showed  in  its  beautiful  white. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  27 

'T  was  thus  to  the  breeze,  in  wild  raptures  of  gladness, 
My  waywardly  muse  in  deep  cadence  sung : 

Sweet  Spring,  how  delightful,  how  dear  is  thy  season, 
When  the  face  of  creation  looks  blooming  and  young. 

Tho'  the  hills  and  the  valleys  have  grass  for  their  cov'ring, 
And  the  trees  and  the  meadows  are  blooming  around ; 

Yet  soon  will  the  aspect  of  Earth  change  its  color, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  forest  fall  pale  to  the  ground, 

Yes  !  Winter  will  come,  with  its  fierce  whistling  tempests, 
And  bare  will  the  boughs  of  the  wild-wood  appear ; 

The  snows  wrill  descend  on  each  valley  and  mountain, 
And  beauty  will  close  its  romantic  career. 

The  streams  will  be  shut  by  the  cold  chilling  weather, 
And  the  birds  wing  their  wray  to  a  warm  sunny  clime ; 

The  trav'ler  will  seek  hospitality's  shelter, 
His  cold  wearied  limbs  to  refresh  for  a  while. 


Alas  !  man  may  live  thro'  Life's  Spring  time  and  Summer, 
And  enjoy  each  dear  scene  that  appears  to  his  eyes ; 

He  may  live  the  fruits  of  his  autumn  to  gather, 
But  oh  !  too  certain,  in  winter  he  dies. 

1816. 


28  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 


THE  LARK'S  NEST. 


'T  was  morn,  and  the  leaves  of  the  Ease  were  all  wet ; 

From  its  bush  the  notes  of  the  Lark  issued  sweet, 
Till  my  nearer  approach  made  her  leave  with  regret 

Her  lonely,  sequestered  and  thorny  retreat. 

I  drew  near  the  bush,  and  extended  my  arm 
To  the  twig  that  upheld  the  delicate  treasure ; 

But  alas !  my  fingers  were  pricked  by  the  thorn, 
And  pain  for  a  moment  diminished  my  pleasure. 

Resolved  to  obtain  it,  I  bent  the  bush  down — 

Pluck' d  the  rose,  and  was  going  to  leave  the  damp  lay, 

When  under  the  bush  I  espied  on  the  ground 
The  nest  of  the  Lark,  that  had  just  flown  away. 

It  was  inlaid  with  down,  composed  of  dead  grass, 
O'er  its  top  a  branch  of  the  Eglantine  hung ; 

To  the  root  of  the  bush  it  was  neatly  made  fast, 
And  in  it,  unfeathered,  were  three  of  her  young. 

June,   1815. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  29 

REFLECTIONS    OJV    THE   DEATH   OF  A 
FATHER, 


Through  weary  life  this  lessoa  learn, 

That  maa,  alas  !  was  made  to  mourn." — BURNS, 


My  theme  's  a  sad  one,  for  my  heart  is  full,  — 
An  unexpected  blow  has  marred  my  bliss, 
And  clothed  my  mind  with  sorrow  . 

My  Father  — 

Yes  !  my  Father  :    I  shall  see  thy  face  no  more  — 
Thy  days  are  numbered,  and  thy  tomb  is  closed  ; 
Thy  never  dying  part  —  the  soul  —  has  made  Its  exit 
From  this  house  of  clay,  and  found  an  everlasting 
Home,  (I  trust)  ia 


Ah  !  how  uncertain  is  Lifers  pilgrimage  — 
How  unexpected  oft  it  terminates  ; 
Mournful  reality  —  melancholy  shock  ! 
But  yesterday  a  father,  now  a  prey  for  worms. 

Oh,  Death  !  tkou  art  a  monster,  without  match  ; 
A  rapacious  glutton  without  parallel  ; 
Devouring  all  —  insatiable  thy  fill  ; 
Forever  breaking  loose  the  tenderest  ties 
Of  Husband,  Father,  Wife  and  dearest  friends. 
Survey  the  wall'd  enclosure  —  there  behold 
Thy  many  meals,  at  different  periods, 
Arranged  in  rows  —  sad,  sickening  spectacle  ; 
Sometimes  the  lud,  at  other  times  the  blossom, 


30  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

And  frequently  (as  now)  the  parent  stem. 
Oh  !  cruel  Death — unwelcome  visitant — 
Thy  shaft  hast  fallen, — alas  !  to  ruin  peace  ; 
The  best  of  mothers  's  now  a  weeping  widow  ; 
Her  children  orphans  in  this  "teary  vale." 

I,  a  new  vessel  on  Life's  stormy  ocean, 

Have  sail'd  awhile  beside  my  native  coast ; 

But  now  I  leave  the  shore,  with  much  emotion, 
Perchance  to  wreck,  with  helm  and  anchor  lost. 

Should  storms  o'ertake  me,  or  should  tempest  gather, 
I  may  be  lost,  or  cast  on  some  waste  strand  ; 

Oh  !  Thou  who  took  to  Thee  my  earthly  Father, 
Look  down,  I  pray,  and  lend  Thy  helping  hand. 

Conduct  my  Bark,  and  let  me  not  be  driven 
Amid  the  swells  of  Life's  tempestuous  sea ; 

But  steer  me  safely  to  thy  port  in  Heaven, 
And  moor  me  there  to  all  eternity. 

Ah  !  cease  to  steal,  ye  tears,  adown  my  cheeks, 
And  thou,  poor  aching  heart,  suspend  thy  pain 
Within  my  troubled  breast.     Ye  deep  drawn  sighs 
Depart — your  sounds  renewing  grief,  and  give 
A  melancholy  cast  to  all  my  mien.     Ye  thoughts, 
Congenial  with  my  bosom's  feelings, 
Turn  your  attention  from  his  sepulchre, 
And  take  a  retrospective  view  of  Time. 
In  Time's  true  registry  behold,  alas! 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  31 

The  entries  of  Conduct  toward  a  Father. 

How  different — how  altered  now  's  the  view 
From  that  when  taken  as  he  journied  here ; 
Acts  which  were  then  approved  are  now  condemned ; 
And  admonitions  which  were  then  rejected 
Are  estimated  now,  now,  at  sterling  value. 

My  Father, 

When  with  watchful  eye  and  tender  guardian  care, 
Thou  pointed  out  to  me  the  snares  of  youth, 
And  with  a  steady  hand  conducted  safe 
My  infant  steps  along  the  craggy  steeps 
Of  childhood's  slippery  way,  I  thanked  thee  not, 
For  then  I  knew  not  thy  paternal  care ; 
But  now  I  see, — I  thank  thee  and  acknowledge — 
Alas  !  acknowledge  when  thy  tomb  is  clos'd. 

My  Father, 

When  childhood's  rough  and  tedious  path  was  traveled, 
And  I  was  ushered  on  the  stage  of  manhood, 
Amidst  Life's  whirlpools  and  surrounding  evils, 
(The  time  from  which  ten  thousands  date  their  ruin,) 
'Twas  thee  who  pointed  out  to  me  the  dangers, 
And  show'd  the  way  my  Bark  might  glide  with  safety, 
For  which  I  thank  thee — thank  thee,  and  acknowledge, 
Alas !  acknowledge  when  thy  tomb  is  closed. 

Farewell,  my  Father ;  earth  is  now  thy  pillow, 
And  thy  dear  spirit  smiles,  I  trust,  on  high  ; 

Thy  son  remains  on  Life's  tempestuous  billows, 
A  candidate  for  bliss — in  immortality. 

December  10,  1818. 


32  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES, 


TO  THE  MUMPS. 


Cnwefeome  stranger,  must  this  form  submit 

To  pains  like  thine,  ill-suited  and  ill-placed  ? 

It  must ;  and  I  must  be  affliction's  child. 

These  swollen  jaws  and  aching  head, 

Debilitated  frame  and  pallid  cheek 

Ill-suited  are  to  me,  whose  look  was  health  ; 

But  Fate  decreed  it  so,  and  1  submit. 

Vile  intruder,  how  foolish  to  solicit 

The  love  of  one  who  absolutely  hates  thcc  ; 

Thy  frowning  brow,  and  heavy,  haggard  look, 

To  every  healthy  form,  is  most  repulsive. 

How  did'st  thou  dare,  at  midnight's  noiseless  hour. 

When  all  my  senses  were  consigned  to  sleep, 

And  every  member  clothed  in  drowsy  lassitude, 

To  enter  and  disturb  my  quiet  dwelling  ? 

Didst  thou  expect  to  gain  my  warmest  friendship, 

Thou  base  annoyer  of  my  peaceful  home  ? 

'  T  is  true  thou  hast  possession  of  these  clayey  walls. 

But  never  while  the  breath  remains  within  me, 

Can  I  consent  to  be  thy  bosom  friend. 

Then  leave  me,  for  I  hate  thy  melancholy  look, 

Unpleasant  features  and  excruciating  pains. 

1817. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  33 


TO  HEALTH. 


Come,  Health  !  thou  wert  my  earliest,  dearest  friend ; 

Thy  ruddy  hue  expanded  on  my  cheek, 

And  hailed  each  season  with  a  smile  of  joy  ; 

The  fragrant  breath  of  Spring  was  sweet  and  pleasant ; 

Summer's  thick  shade  refreshed  each  languid  member ;, 

Autumn's  choice  fruits  appeased  the  calls  of  hunger, 

And  Winter's  gambols  closed  the  year  with  mirth, 

With  gratitude  and  cheer. 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me — wilt  thou  let  disease 

Destroy  the  dwelling  thou  so  long  possessed, 

And  let  its  walls  decay  and  fall  to  dust  ? 

Inconstant  friend — too  tickle  to  be  trusted ; 
Alarmed  at  every  fever — every  trifling  pain  ; 
And  shall  I  call  thee  coward  ?     True,  thou  art, 
For  I  have  known  thee  dwell,  for  years,  in  quiet  peace,. 
Unmolested  by  any  human  indisposition. 
Disease  at  length  appeared,  and  thy  too  fickle  form 
Fled  from  its  hovel,  nor  dared  to  make  its  claim  ; 
Yet  thou  art  sometimes  faithful — I  have  known  thee  slay 
The  emaciated  looking  fiend, 
And  drive  him  quickly  from  thy  blest  domain ; 
Then  drive  him  far  from  me ;  or  is  thy  lease  expired  ? 
If  so,  where,  where  for  refuge  can  this  spirit  fly, 
Which  never  knew  Religion's  mild  and  Heavenly  ray? 
Return,  sweet  Health,  for  sure  I  ne'er  offended ; 


34  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

Thy  animated  face  and  rosy,  cheerful  looks, 

Thy  manners  are  more  pleasing,  much  more  gay 

Than  thy  ill-favored  rival's.     I  had  much  rather 

Spend  my  days  with  thee  in  penury's  low  cot 

Than   dwell  with  pale    Disease   in  pomp  and  splendor 

crowned; 
But,  patient,  I  submit,  and  wait  thy  quick  return. 

April  17,  1817. 


WOMAN. 


There  is  a  charm  in  woman's  face, 
A  lucid  brilliance  in  her  eye  ; 

And  in  her  speech  there  is  a  grace, 
An  ease  and  air  of  modesty ; 
But  oh !  in  woman's  smile  so  sweet 
Does  often  lurk  the  fiend  deceit. 

Sweet  is  the  rose  on  woman's  cheek — 
Warm  is  the  fire  of  woman's  love, 

And  woman's  vows  are  fair,  though  else 
They  often  false  and  fickle  prove ; 
When  beauty  speaks  and  smiles  in  glee, 
Beware — beware  of  coquetry. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  35 


LINES 

On  the  Death  of  Mary  Land-is,  who  departed  this  Life 
January  2d,  1816. 


At  the  dread  summons,  she  resigned  her  breath, 
And  closed  her  eyes  in  sleep — "  the  sleep  of  Death ;" 
Pier  pious  soul,  devoid  of  sinful  fears, 
Took  its  long  exit  from  this  "  vale  of  tears" — 
Her  lovely  form,  in  youth's  enchanting  bloom, 
Sank,  much  regretted,  in  an  early  tomb. 

Yes  !  Mary,  thou  art  gone,  my  much  loved  friend  ; 

Thy  race  is  run,  thy  journey's  at  an  end ; 

Thy  sun  is  set,  before  meridian  day, 

To  rise  no  more,  save  in  eternity. 

Yes  !  thou  hast  gone  and  left  the  ties  of  earth, 

A  loving  husband,  she  that  gave  thee  birth, 

A  numerous  kindred,  friends  that  were  sincere, 

And  all,  alas !  which  made  existence  dear. 

Perhaps  'tis  best;  then  weep  not  for  the  dead, 
But  for  the  living  let  your  tears  be  shed ; 
The  dead  are  gone  to  meet  a  gracious  Lord, 
And  reap  for  earthly  works  a  just  reward ; 
But  those  who  live  in  sin  and  wretchedness 
Call  loud  for  tears — yea,  tears  of  deep  distress. 


36  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

Weep  not  for  her  whose  life  was  innocence, 
Whose  pathway  virtue,  and  whose  language  sense ; 
Dry  up  those  tears,  and  let  your  sorrow  cease, 
Xo  longer  mourn,  for  Mary  sleeps  in  peace. 

May  we  who  yet  retain  the  living  breath 

"  Be  also  ready"  and  prepared  for  death. 

The  youthful,  aged,  witty  and  the  gay, 

At  thy  command,  oh  Death  !  must  all  obey ; 

None  are  exempt,  but  all  that  yet  remain 

Will  soon  return  to  earth,  from  whence  we  came ; 

And  as  the  body  to  the  grave  is  given, 

The  soul  seeks  refuge  with  its  (rod  in  Heaven. 

January  5,  1816. 


THE  SMILE, 


There  was  a  smile — but,  oh !  forgive ; 

I  feel  no  more  its  pleasing  sway ; 
Beauty's  a  flower  which  cannot  live — 

It  withers,  dies,  and  fades  awray. 

There  wras  a  smile,  by  me  once  known ; 

But  now  I  trace  its  altered  features ; 
'  T  is  changed,  alas  !  't  is  now  a  frown, — 

Eliza,  we  are  fickle  creatures. 


MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES.  37 


THE  SEASONS. 


Each  season  has  its  peculiar  charm. 


How  pleasant  to  sit  by  the  clear  running  fountain, 
When  the  sweet  vernal  breeze  fans  the  face  of  creation ; 

When  music  is  heard  from  the  valley  and  mountain, 
And  the  landscape  in  bloom  gives  the  scene  animation. 

How  pleasant  to  sit  'neath  the  green  shady  bower, 
When  Summer  arrives,  and  behold  things  maturing ; 

When  Sol  shines  aloft  with  resplendence  and  power, 
And  mortals  their  stores  are  for  winter  procuring. 

How  pleasant  to  sit  in  the  midst  of  the  wild-wood, 
When  Autumn's  ripe  scenes  are  so  rich  and  inspiring, 

By  the  side  of  &  friend  we  Ve  loved  from  our  childhood, 
When  solitude's  beauties  are  swiftly  retiring. 

How  pleasant  to  sit  by  the  hot  blazing  fire, 

When  keen  blows  the  wind,  so  cold  and  so  chilling, 

When  Winter's  bleak  snows  fill  the  tempest  with  ire, 
And  rivers  and  streams  are  all  chilled  or  arc  chilling. 

1818. 


38  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

RURAL  STANZAS. 

A    SCENE    OX    THE    BRAXDYWIXE. 


Here  rocks  and  hills  and  variegated  trees 
Form'd  a  romantic  and  delightful  scene  ; 

Here  music  floated  on  the  scented  breeze, 
And  rustic  nature  sweetly  smiled  serene. 

Here  distant  cascades  sounded  on  the  ear, 
And  shelving  steeps  gave  pleasure  to  the  eye ; 

Pierian  fountains  secm'd  to  issue  here, 

And  proud  Parnassus  reared  its  summit  high. 

Here,  oh!  my  muse,  I  touched  thy  simple  shell, 
And  wildly  breath'd  a  rude  and  artless  strain ; 

Here,  inspiration,  did  I  feel  thy  swell, 
And  gazed  on  scenes — scenes  ne'er  again. 

Here,  I  exclaimed  in  rapture's  burning  tone, 
Could  I  enjoy  the  presence  of  the  "  Fair" 

For  here  't  is  lovely,  e'en  to  be  alone — 

'T  would  be  delicious  if  a  friend  could  share. 


ODES  TO  NESHAMINY. 


NO.  I. 


Sweet  stream,  I  love  to  walk  thy  shore, 
And  trace  thy  gently  winding  ways ; 

To  hear  thy  soothing  waters  roar, 

When  evening  all  thy  grace  displays, 

I  love  to  sit  me  down  and  think, 
Beneath  some  old  majestic  tree, 

That  borders  on  thy  grass-grown  brink, 
And  spreads  its  branches  wide  and  free. 

Yes !  when  the  sun,  with  feeble  beams, 
Half  sunk  beneath  the  gilded  west, 

Spreads  out  his  latest  golden  gleams 
To  give  the  wreary  wand'rer  rest. 

When  all  the  toils  of  day  are  o'er, 

And  naught  is  felt  but  peace  and  love, 

Then,  then  'tis  sweet  to  hear  thy  roar, 
In  concert  with  the  mourning  Dove, 

Who,  on  some  dead  and  barklcss  limb 
That  overhangs  thy  wayward  course, 

Is  mourning  for  the  loss  of  him 

The  sportsman  from  her  side  did  force. 


42  ODES    TO    NESHAMIXY. 

At  such  an  hour  I  often  rove, 

When  summer  fills  the  air  with  heat ; 

Ah !  such  an  hour  sure  all  must  love, 
Sure  all  must  own  such  prospects  sweet. 

Then  may  thy  source  continue  long, 
And  may  the  muse  enjoy  thy  shore  ; 

May  every  harp  repeat  thy  song, 
Now,  henceforth,  forevermore. 

May,  1813. 


JVO.  II. 
[BYRONIC  MEASURE.] 


Know  ye  the  spot  wrhere  the  Maple  and  Willow 
Rudely  mingle  their  branches  and  wave  with  the  breeze, 

Where  the  moss-covered  rock  forms  a  seat  and  a  pillow, 
To  woo  meditation  alone  and  at  ease ; — 

Where  Neshaminy's  current  glides  smoothly  along, 
And  the  roar  of  its  waters  sound  soft  to  the  ear ; 

Where  is  heard  from  afar  the  whip-poor-will's  song, 
At  the  close  of  the  day  in  the  spring  of  the  year. 


ODES   TO    XESHAMINY.  43 

Know  ye  the  spot  where  the  rose  and  the  brier 
In  the  same  lovely  valley  are  seen  with  delight, 

Where  a  soul  fond  of  solitude  loves  to  retire 

When  the  All-Seeing  Eye  draws  the  curtain  of  night. 

'T  is  the  spot  of  contentment,  the  bower  of  ease, 

Situated  far  distant  from  riot ; 
'T  is  the  place  of  resort  for  a  lover  of  peace 

To  muse  in  poetical  quiet. 

May,  1814. 


NO.  III. 


The  sun  has  just  sunk  in  the  west, 
The  toils  of  the  day  are  all  o'er ; 

Alone  and  in  silence  I  rest 

On  the  grass  of  Neshaminy's  shore. 

The  night  hawk  is  heard  on  his  wings, 
Conceal'd  by  the  darkness  from  sight ; 

And  the  katy-did  ceaselessly  sings 
Her  thanks  to  the  coming  of  night. 


44  ODES   TO    NESHAMINY. 

The  robin  has  finished  his  lay 

He  sang  till  the  ether  turned  pale, 

Then,  warn'd  of  the  parting  of  day, 
He  flew  to  the  thick  bushy  dale. 

Adieu !  then,  sweet  bird  of  the  lawn, 
Repose  thy  head  under  thy  wing ; 

Rest  calmly  in  silence  till  morn, 
Then  soar  o'er  the  valley  and  sing. 


K"ow  murmur  the  waters  below, 
With  a  melody  soft  to  the  ear  ; 

The  moon  is  beginning  to  glow, 

And  the  stars  in  dim  splendor  appear. 

Sweet  thoughts  in  my  bosom  arise, 
From  reasons  too  clear  to  explain  ; 

'T  is  said  that  "  a  word  to  the  wise 

Is  enough/'  —  Eliza,  we'll  meet  here  again. 


August. 


ODES   TO    NESIIAMINY.  45 


NO.  rv. 


THE    EVENING   WALK. 


I  took  her  with  me,  but  came  home  alone. 


Just  fmish'd  had  the  sun  his  daily  round, 

And  sober  twilight  clothed  the  welcome  scene  ; 

With  crossing  frogs  the  marshes  did  resound, 
And  nature's  face  was  pleasant  and  serene. 

Fatigued  writh  labor  through  the  busy  day, 

And  always  partial  to  fond  friendship's  theme, 

I,  with  Eliza,  gently  took  my  wray 

Along  JSTeshaminy's  smoothly  winding  stream. 

Sweet  blew  the  breezes  as  we  roved  along 

WThere  birch  and  willow  formed  a  lovely  grove  ; 

Our  cars  were  greeted  with  the  night-bird's  song 
Which  floated  through  the  air  and  echo'd  "  Love'1 

Pale  Cynthia,  in  the  east,  unveiled  her  face, 

And  faint  reflected  through  the  branching  trees ; 

And  dews  of  night  descended  round  the  place, 
And  naught  was  felt,  save  harmony  and  peace. 


40  ODES   TO    NESHAMINY. 

Tints,  on  a  rock  projecting  o'er  the  stream, 
Eliza  raised  her  soft,  enchanting  voice, — 

That  voice  which  wakes  from  "love's  delicious  dream," 
And  makes  with  ecstacy  the  soul  rejoice. 

These  are  thy  gifts,  Great  Author  of  all  good, — 
This  lovely  grove  with  all  its  charms  arc  thine ; 

Thy  gracious  hand  profusely  here  hath  strew'd 
The  marks  of  skill  and  workmanship  Divine. 

Enchanting  spot,  full  many  an  eve  like  this, 
When  social  conversation  wing'd  the  hour, 

Have  I  enjoyed  the  greatest  earthly  bliss 
Beneath  thy  cooling  and  refreshing  bower. 

And  I,  Eliza,  frequently  have  felt, 

When  sitting  'ncath  yon  aged  spreading  tree, 

Close  by  thy  side,  my  heart  almost  to  melt, 
And  oft  have  said,  "  'tis  good  to  be  with  thee" 

The  rose's  hue  diffused  her  lovely  face, 

From  off  the  rock  she  quickly  turn'd  away ; 

"  Why  leave  so  soon,"  said  I,  "this  charming  place?" 
"  I  cannot  bear,"  she  answered,  "  flattery." 

With  rapid  steps  she  hastened  from  my  view ; 

I  called,  but  no,  her  speed  did  not  abate ; 
Not  even  time  had  I  to  say  adieu, 

But  left  alone  to  muse  and  meditate. 

May,  1315. 


ODES   TO    NESHAMIXY.  47 

NO.   V. 

KETKOSPECTIVE   STAXZAS. 


How  sweet  pass'd  the  days  when  in  boyhood  I  wander'd 
On  Neshaminy's  margin,  and  viewed  the  wild  scene ; 

When  alone  and  contented  I  silently  ponder'd, 
And  partook  of  enjoyments  the  highest  terrene. 

When  away  to  my  trap  in  the  morning  I  scamper 'd, 
With  my  dog  and  my  gun  and  a  heart  at  its  ease, 

And  found  the  poor  muskrat  entangled  and  hampcr'd, 
I  cheerfully  whistled  aloud  to  the  breeze. 

When  seated  beneath  some  old  wide  spreading  willow, 
I  baited  my  hook,  cast  it  forth  in  the  stream ; 

Or  perchance,  with  some  moss-cover'd  rock  for  a  pillow, 
I  sank  to  repose,  and  serene  was  my  dream. 

Or  when  in  the  grove  I  in  ecstacy  harken'd 
To  the  roar  of  the  cascade,  though  distant  afar, 

And  mused  till  the  curtain  of  twilight  had  darkened 
The  scene,  and  illumed  the  "  bright  polar  star." 

Sweet  days,  you  are  past — yea !  departed  forever ; 

Your  innocent  sports  are  consigned  to  the  tomb ; 
Yet  memory  will  value  you  precious,  and  ever 

Regret  that  your  happiness  ended  so  soon. 

June,  1816. 


48  OJ)ES   TO    NESHAM1NY. 


TO  ELIZA. 


Eliza,  clear  girl,  the  pang  has  past  over, 

For  one  kind  of  feelings  do  not  last  forever ; 

And  the  throbs  which  around  my  bosom  did  hover 
Have  left  me,  and  I  have  forgotten — no,  never. 


Yet,  Eliza,  when  a  form  so  fair 
Again  requests  my  artless  strain, 

My  harp  assumes  the  gentle  air 
Of  acquiescence,  and  would  fain, 
Though  weak  the  muse's  power,  entertain. 

Then  let  me  tune  thy  mellow  string, 
Thou  cheerful  harp  of  mine,  and  oh ! 

So  light  and  careless  let  me  sing, 

That  she  who  hears  the  sound  may  know 
Thy  tunes  with  some  degree  of  ease  can  flow. 

But,  oh !  my  harp,  'tis  not  for  thee 

To  soothe  the  learned,  the  wise,  the  gay ; 

They  '11  little  heed,  and  tliou  and  me 
Will  soon  together  silent  lay 
Where  dark  oblivion  holds  his  gloomy  sway. 


ODES   TO   NESHAMINY.  4i) 

Yet  thou  canst  charm  the  weary  hour, 

Beguile  the  tedious  time  away  ; 
The  rustic  wight  can  own  thy  power, 

And  listen  to  thy  sylvan  lay 

When  Luna  spreads  her  silver  luster'd  ray. 

Then  thou,  my  friend,  be  not  severe ; 

Regard  my  theme,  respect  my  name  ; — 
Eliza,  friends  that  are  sincere — 
Friends  that  each  other  do  revere, 

Should  ne'er  each  other's  feelings  maim. 

April,  1817. 


BOYHOOD  SCRIBBLINGS. 


TO 

Upon  her  requesting  me  to  make  her  some  Poetry. 


With  a  Lady's  request  I  love  to  comply, 

When  it  is  in  my  power  to  do  it ; 
But  with  the  present  I  feel  rather  shy, 

For  fear  (some  time  hence)  I  may  rue  it. 

Can  a  form  so  majestic  as  thine,  lovely  Jane, 
And  a  mind  so  enlightened  and  clever, 

Expose  to  the  world  this  poetical  strain  ? 
I  am  almost  persuaded — no,  never. 

Then  here 's  to  the  girl — oh  !  may  she  live  long, 
And  as  long  as  she  lives  may  I  love  her ; 

May  she  cherish  for  me  a  passion  as  strong, 
And  around  us  may  happiness  hover. 

May  our  morning  of  bliss  commence  with  a  smile, 
And  increase  with  Aurora  in  power ; 

At  eve  be  prepared  with  a  countenance  mild 
To  welcome  the  sun-setting  hour. 

To  Heaven,  oh  then,  may  our  spirits  take  wing, — 
There  with  angels  and  seraphs  forever, 

In  concert  aloud  hallelujahs  to  sing, 
Never  more  from  each  other  to  sever. 

1815. 


54  JJOYllOOD    SCKIUBLINGS. 


ACROSTIC  NO.  1. 


II.  Health  to  the  check  that  remains  yet  unfaded, 

A.  And  peace  to  the  heart  by  soft  sympathy  shaded  ; 

N.  No  longer,  dear  girl,  let  thy  angelic  mildness, 

N.  Nor  thy  ease  of  expression,  cheerfulness,  wildness, 

A.  Allure  the  beholder  to  regions  of  wonder, 

II.  Harshly  tearing  the  heart  and  body  asunder. 

S.  Shut,  too,  those  eyelids  in  mild  condescension  ; 

T.  That  tongue  lock  in  silence,  which  heard,  claims 

attention ; 

O.  Oh  !  cease  to  bewilder  with  charms  unaffected ; 

R.  Recollect,  loye,  mildness  and- virtue  connected, 

Y.  Youth,  bcaufy  and  sweetness  are  thieves  unsuspected. 

1815. 


BOYHOOD   SCRIBBLINGS.  55 


ACROSTIC  JVO.  IL 


M.  Mild  as  the  breeze  that /a/as  the  blushing  rose, 

I.  Infusing  fragrance  o'er  Vallonia's  grove ; 

S.  Sincere  thy  heart,  in  which  at  rest  repose 

S.  Sympathy,  benevolence,  innocence  and  love. 

M.  May  peace  the  purest,  unalloy'd  by  tears, 

A.  Attend  thy  pilgrimage  through  passing  time  ; 

E.  Religion  gild  with  happiness  thy  years — 

Y.  Yea,  raise  thy  thoughts  from  earth  to  themes  sublime. 

M.  My  valued  friend,  I  feel  as  thus  I  speak 

A.  All  that  a  friend  is  privileged  to  feel — 

E.  Respect,  regard,  esteem.     Yet  man  is  weak  ; 

T.  Too  often  friendships  prove  to  be  ideal. 

I.  I  oft  have  known  false  friendship's  flashy  blaze 

N.'  Neglected,  die,  and  scandal  follow  praise. 

Fourth  mo.,  1819. 


BOYHOOIJ   SCRIBBLIXGS. 


ACROSTIC  NO.  III. 


S.     Sound  soft  my  harp,  and  let  thy  strains  be  clear, 

A.    A  noble  theme  now  o'er  thy  chords  is  stealing ; 

JR.    Record  the  worth  of  one — one  who  feels  near 

A.    And  dear  to  every  secret  inward  feeling. 

H.    Health's  lovely  blossoms  on  her  cheeks  are  blooming : 

N.   No  gloomy  shadow  clouds  her  charming  face  ; 

E.    Ease  of  deportment,  manners  unassuming, 

W.  With  every  acquisition  that  can  grace ; 

S.  Brilliant  in  mind ;  a  heart,  could  I  but  gain  it, 

0.    Oh  how  delightful  could  I  pass  existence. 

L.    Love,  give  thy  aid,  assist  me  to  obtain  it ; 

D.  Divide  us  not  by  absence  nor  by  distance, 

Fourth-mo.,  1819. 


BOYHOOD   SCKIBBLIXGS.  57 


Well,  thou  art  gone,  and  I  am  left 
To  gaze  on  features  less  engaging ; 

And  while,  dear  girl,  of  thee  bereft, 
May  I  forget  this  inward  raging. 

Ah !  hadst  thou  stayed,  perchance,  if  ever, 
This  fickle  heart  had  all  been  thine  ; 

But  thanks,  thou  didst  not  wholly  sever, 
A  portion  yet  continues  mine. 

I  own  I  felt  thee  daily  nearer — 

Thy  form  was  fair,  thy  mind  improved ; 

Each  visit  made  thee  dearer,  dearer, 

And  hadst  thou  stayed,  I  should  have  loved. 

When  late  I  took  my  parting  view, 

Thy  charming  hue  did  richly  grace  thee  ; 

I  prcss'd  thy  hand,  I  bade  adieu, 

But  oh  !  I  did  not  dare  embrace  thcc. 

Could  I  but  win,  alas !  forgive  me 
(Thy  worth  deserves  a  nobler  swain), 

All  that  I  ask,  dear  girl,  believe  me, 
Is  to  return — my  Heart  again. 

June,  181(). 


58  BOYHOOD   SCRIBBLINGS. 

TO  HANNAH. 


I  own  thy  interesting  features 

Created  a  describcless  feeling ; 
But  oh  !  such  fascinating  creatures 

Pass  with  impunity  for  stealing. 

When  late  I  took  my  last  good-bye, 

Oh !  Girl,  I  felt  in  such  a  manner, 
That  hadst  thou  seen  my  swimming  eye 

It  would  have  mov'd  thec,  lovely  Hannah. 

:i;  :js  s}l  $  *  $  %  :fc  ^ 

Should  fate  prove  unfortunate,  time  may  extinguish 
The  flame  which  now  burns  in  darkness  unfriended  ; 

But  while  there  is  Hope  I  will  never  relinquish 
The  One  to  whom  earliest  love  was  extended. 

Oh !  could  I  but  gain  thy  warmest  affections, 
And  see  thy  dear  image  smile  on  me  propitious, 

How  soon  would  these  dark  agonizing  reflections 
Be  changed  in  my  bosom  to  feelings  delicious. 

How  quick  couldst  thou  move  this  suspense  from  before 
me — 

One  sound  from  thy  soft  lips  could  seal  the  decree  ; 
I  then  would  forget,  or  forever  adore  thee, 

With  sorrow  or  bliss,  in  the  highest  degree. 

1817. 


POETRY  AND  RHYMES. 


TO  A  BEAUTIFUL    WOMAN. 


There  's  something  in  that  face  of  thine 

That 's  fairer  far  than  human, — 
Those  Eyes  with  Heavenly  lustre  shine, 
Those  Locks  with  so  much  rudeness  twine, 
Thou  seemst  to  be  a  form  divine, 
Sweet,  interesting —  Woman. 

The  music  of  thy  mellow  tongue 

Is  sweeter  far  than  human, 
For  such  the  ancient  minstrel  sung, 
When  Israel's  Harp  he  gently  strung, 
And  o'er  the  land  of  Judah  rung- 
Melodious  sounds — sweet  Woman. 

The  cultivation  of  thy  mind 

Is  higher  tar  than  human, 
For  each  production  is  refined — 
Each  act  with  prudence  is  combined, 
And  yet  with  all  these  treasures  join'd 

Thou  art,  alas  ! — but  Woman. 

And  can  I  hope  to  be  possessed 
Of  one  that 's  more  than  human ; 

Oh  !  Fortune  smile  and  make  me  bless'd,  . 

Grant,  I  entreat,  this  one  request 

(Which,  save  to  thee,  I  ne'er  express'd,) 
The  love  of  this — sweet  Woman, 


POETRY    AX  I)    RHYMES. 


SONG. 

In  imitation  of  "  Bendemerc's  Stream.'' — MOORE. 


There  Ts  a  "wild  shady  seat''  on  Xeshaminy's  shore, 

And  the  Dove  and  the  Whip-poor-will  sing  round  its 

bower ; 
There  music  so  soft,  and  the  waves  gentle  roar. 

Make  the  spot  ever  welcome  to  spend  the  sweet  hour. 
That  seat  and  those  waters  I  shall  ever  hold  dear, 

For  as  oft  as  I  see  them  my  heart  thrills  with  pleasure; 
In  the  days  of  my  childhood  how  sweet  passed  the  year, 

As  I  carelessly  sang,  sat,  or  walked  at  my  leisure. 

But  those  days  are  departed,  and  fled  like  a  dream, 

And  the  "  wild  shady  seat "  I  have  left  with  regret ; 
Yet  oft,  though  afar  from  my  dear  native  stream, 

I  think  is  the  whip-poor-will  singing  there  yet. 
Yes,  the  dove  and  the  whip-poor-will  oft  raise  their  tone, 

And  the  stream  without  ceasing  continues  to  roar ; 
Recollection  still  fresh,  of  delights  that  are  flown, 

Partook  from  that  seat  on  JSTeshaminy's  shore. 


POETHY    AND    RHYMES.  63 


TO 


Scorn  not  the  Rustic  Bard,  engaging  S — 
Nor  yet  despise  the  candor  of  his  lays; 

Unknown  to  polish  and  refined  address, 
The  child  of  nature  in  her  rudest  ways. 


He  never  roved  Pernassian  shades  beneath, 
Nor  wandered  where  Pierian  fountains  flow ; 

For  him  no  muses  twine  their  laurel  wreath, 
Nor  shed  their  halo  round  his  rustic  brow. 

Yet,  in  his  bosom,  peace  was  sweetly  felt, 
And  social  pleasure  often  cheered  his  way ; 

But  now,  alas !  where  calm  fruition  dwelt, 
No  more  is  known  thy  bliss,  Tranquility. 

Ask  not  the  cause  why  melancholy  throws 

Her  gloomy  shadows  o'er  his  pensive  features. 
But  rather  prove  a  soother  to  his  w^oes, 


Thou  most  engaging  of  bewitching  creatures. 


1819. 


(34  POETRY    AND    RHYMES. 

EFFUSIONS  OF  FEELING. 

TO    ONE    WHO     UNDERSTANDS     THEM 


Chang'd  is  the  scene — the  vision 's  fled  ; 

The  hope  I  once  possess'd  is  clouded  ; 
Early  matured,  and  early  dead, 

In  sorrow  sunk,  in  darkness  shrouded. 

Gone  is  that  doubt,  suspense  no  more 

Pervades  the  breast  by  peace  once  shaded  ; 

Pleasure's  soft  breeze  has  quick  passed  o'er, 
Its  fragrance  gone,  its  beauties  faded. 

Too  soon,  alas  !  my  bosom  feels 

The  shafts  of  woe,  the  griefs  of  folly  ; 

Ideal  bliss  too  soon  reveals 
Its  real  name  in  melancholy. 

Oh  !  memory  thou  art  only  dear 

To  those  who  view  past  joys  with  gladness  ; 
To  me  thou  art  a  pain  severe, 

A  source  of  secret  inward  sadness. 

Oh,  H:!.....:..;.h,  could  I  but  forget 

I  e'er  had  seen — I  e'er  had  mov'd  thee  ; 

Could  I  but  think  we  ne'er  had  met, — 
Enough — I  do  esteem,  but  cannot  love  thee. 


POETRY   AND    RHYMES. 

1  will  respect — respect  how  cold  ; 

I  can  esteem — esteem,  but  never, 
Xever  can  I — (my  muse  withhold,} 

Fate  has  decreed  that  we  must  sever. 

Then,  fare-thee-well,  once  charming  S 
May  one  more  worthy  meet  thy  view 

Dear  girl,  had  I  but  loved  thee  less, — 
Forgive  my  weakness.     Oh  !  adieu. 

May  20,  1819. 


Forget  the  past — to  err  is  human; 

A  friendship  pure  I  trust  was  mine  ; 
One  of  the  loveliest  traits  in  woman 

Is  to  forgive, — it  is  Divine. 


G(J  POETRY    AND    RHYMES. 


TO  EMMA. 


As  I  passed  through  the  valley  and  seated  me  down 

'Xeath  the  shade  of  a  wide-spreading  hollow  beech  tree, 
I  turn'd  to  those  pleasures,  so  recently  flown, 

Partook  with  thy  sister,  dear  Emma,  and  thee. 

i 

And  such  was  the  power  which  fancy  possessed, 
As  I  pictured  in  thought  the  reality  clearly, 

I  could  scarcely  determine  whether  most  blest 
When  with  those  or  from  those  I  value  sincerely. 

For  moments  of  thought  in  retired  seclusion, 

Where  nature  spreads  rudely  her  picturesque  features, 

Are  so  sweet  that  I  seldom  suspect  the  delusion, 
And  forget  I  am  far  from  those  angelic  creatures. 

To  converse  with  and  gaze  upon  those  I  respect, 
Affords  me  much  pure  and  delightful  enjoyment; 

But  I  often  admit  that  to  sit  and  reflect 

Is  far  the  most  lucrative,  useful  employment. 

For  boundless  the  Umifs  of  Fancy's  dominion, 
I  can  scan  what  has  pass'd,  and  figure  new  bliss  ; 

But,  conversing,  I  frequently  give  an  opinion 
For  the  sake  of  a  sound,  and  occasion  distress. 


POETRY    AND    RHYMES.  67 

It  was  night,  and  the  zephyr  came  fresh  from  the  wave, 
The  candles  of  Heaven  shone  brilliantly  o'er  me  ; 

Xot  a  sound  to  break  nature's  tranquility  —  save 

Xeshaminy's  stream  which  meandered  before  me,  — 

As  I  passed  through  the  valley  and  seated  me  down 
'jNeath  the  shade  of  a  wide-spreading  hollow  beech  tree, 

And  turned  to  those  pleasures,  so  recently  flown, 
Partook  with  thy  sister,  dear  Emma,  and  thee. 

June,  1820. 


THE  BARD'  8  PETITION. 

A     PARODY. 


Pity  the  troubles  of  a  nice  young  man, 

Whose  horse  and  gig  had  borne  him  to  that  shore — • 
Blest  clime,  much  famed  for  Ladies,  cheese  and  sand, 

Beef,  porJc,  potatoes,  marl  and  iron  ore.  * 

His  pensive  cast  his  inward  thoughts  bespeak  ; 

His  heavy  eyes,  in  tears,  proclaim  his  woes ; 
And  mark  the  red,  which  lately  cloth'd  his  cheek, 

Has  took  its  residence  upon  his  nose. 

*  State  of  New  Jersey. 


08  POETRY    AND    RHYMES. 

Yon  large  white  house,  which  overlooks  the  scene, — 
Fair  scene,  but  one  a  pencil  never  drew ; 

Where  pine  and  cedar  wave  in  evergreen, 
And  ten-rail  fences  terminate  the  view. 

That  stately  pile,  whose  lovely  daughters  drew 
His  weary  footsteps  from  the  public  road. 

Afforded  shelter  for  a  time  ;  but,  oh  ! 

Too  short  his  shelter  in  the  grand  abode. 

c^ 

Poor,  wretched  youth,  hard  was  his  adverse  fate ; 

Ere  he  had  asked  to  claim  the  fair  one's  hand, 
Ungenerous  girl,  she  drove  him  from  the  gate 

To  seek  a  dwelling  on  his  native  strand.* 

Sharp  was  his  grief,  and  piercing  was  his  woe 
As  ever  touched  a  human  mortal's  breast, 

And  did  his  friends  his  sufferings  half  know, 
Their  tears  of  pity  could  not  be  repressed. 

Heaven  sends  misfortunes,  why  should  he  repine  ? 

It  was  his  hard  lot  before  he  asked  to  stay  ; 
He  got  no  dinner,  supper,  cake  or  wine, — 

Sad  recollection,  to  be  driven  away, 

Pity  the  troubles  of  a  nice  young  man, 

Whose  horse  and  gig  had  borne  him  to  that  shore- 
Blest  clime,  much  fam'd  for  Ladies,  cheese  and  sand, 

Beef,  pork,  potatoes,  marl  and  iron  ore. 

October,  1819. 
*  Pennsylvania. 


POETRY   AND    RHYMES.  60 

TO  SUSAJV. 


As  my  friend  Susan  has  such  a  sad  opinion  of  "  CARE,"  that  "  it  will 
dim  the  brightest  eye,"  "  wither  every  rose  on  beauty's  cheek,"  "  give  a 
sad  tone  to  voices  of  gladness,"  "  destroy  our  love  for  our  early  haunts 
and  enjoyments,"  and  finally  "  makes  the  youthful  heart  find  an  early 
tomb" — I  cannot  feel  easy  without  telling  her  that,  although  we  agree  in 
many  things,  we  greatly  diifer  in 

CAKE. 

Care  will  save  the  "  brightest  Eyes" 
Many  a  "  tear1'  and  many  a  wink  too ; 

And  care  will  save  dear  Susan's  sighs 
In  days  to  come.     At  least  I  think  so. 

Care  will  keep  the  "  Rose"  in  bloom, 
That  richly  glows  upon  her  cheeks  so, 

And  chase  away  the  sober  gloom 

That  clouds  her  face.     At  least  I  think  so. 

Care  will  give  a  brighter  shade 

To  pleasant  M ,  her  late  dominion, 

Where  long  within  its  halls  she  play'd, 
In  early  youth, — 'tis  my  opinion. 

Care  will  give  us  friends  and  health, 
More  consequence  and  more  dominion ; 

'Twill  add  to  Time,  is  peace,  to  wealth, 
And  happiness,— in  my  opinion. 

1820. 


70  POETRY   AND   RHYMES. 

VERSES 

WRITTEN    IN   AX   ALBUM   OF   A   FAIR    FRIEND. 


So  long  has  my  Harp  hung  up  mute  on  the  willow, 
Unaccustom'd  to  song,  forsaken,  neglected,  — 

So  long  has  blest  Phoebus  deserted  my  pillow, 

That  a  "sweet  mellow  strain"  cannot  now  be  expected. 

But  come,  my  old  Harp,  that  I  once  loved  so  dearly, 
Let  me  tune  thy  rude  strings  to  that  wild  rustic  measure, 

And  try  as  in  boyhood,  when  so  sweetly  and  chcerly 
I  sang  to  the  breeze  "  in  my  hours  of  leisure." 

Blest  hours  departed,  full  fraught  with  fruition, 
Exchanged  for  the  cares  of  a  family  and  wife  ; 

And  yet,  my  dear  friend,  though  changed  my  condition, 
I  am  further  advanced  in  enjoyment  of  Life. 

In  youth  we  are  thoughtless,  unsettled,  pursuing 
Each  flowery  path,  without  fear  or  reflection  ; 

But  when  we  have  traced  them,  how  oft  in  reviewing, 
We  find  our  acts  do  not  bear  retrospection. 


Not  so,  when  mature.     But  enough.     I'mn 

I  '11  hang  up  my  Harp  from  where  it  was  taken  ; 

'Tis  the  last  time  my  muse,  perchance,  will  bestow  it 
An  "  hour  of  leisure,"  or  its  slumbers  awaken. 


1830. 


POETRY   AND   KHYMES.  71 


LINES  ALTERED  FROM  MOORE. 


"The  thread  of  our  Life  would  be  dark,  Heaven  knows," 
If  it  was  not  with,  friendship  and  love  wreath'd  around ; 

And  dark  our  path  through  this  valley  of  woes, 

Was  not  "  Heaven's  last  best  gift"  everywhere  found. 

Then  call  not  a  waste  of  wearisome  hours 

This  Life  "  so  chequered  with  pleasures  and  woes;" 

It  has  often  its  sweets,  though  sometimes  its  sours, 

But  the  thorns  are  conceal'd  by  the  leaves  of  the  Rose. 

1820. 


TO  "  SPUNGERS: 


Some  stop  with  a  "friend" 

And  don't  like  to  spend 
A  cent  where  is  seen  "Entertainment;" 

But  the  motto  I  give 

Is  to  "live  and  let  live," 
For  Cash  is  for  food,  drink  and  raiment. 


72  POETRY    AND    RHYMES. 


LI.VES 


Supposed  to  have  been  written  by  my  wife  Ifancy,  during 
my  absence  from  home. 

In  imitation  of  Lines  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  Alexander  Selkirk, 


I  am  Mistress  of  all  I  survey, 

My  flight  now  extends  through  the  House; 
My  Husband,  the  scamp 's,  gone  away. 

And  I  rni  Queen  from  the  ma  id  to  the  mouse. 

Oh !  married  life,  where  are  the  charms 
That  Women  have  felt  in  thy  ties  ? 

Better  sleep  all  alone,  than  in  arms 
That  squeeze  till  a  body  most  cries. 

But  there's  comfort  in  every  state, 

And  I've  comfort  when  e'er  I'm  alone ; 

Though  I  caught  the  old  chap  rather  later 
I'll  stick  to  him,  "  bone  of  my  bone" 


1852. 


POETRY   AND    RHYMES.  73 


LINE  8 

Supposed  to  have  been  written  ly  a  young  friend  of  mine, 
on  taking  his  final  leave  of  a  loved  object,  when  his  case 
seemed  to  le  a  hopeless  one,  in  a  distant  city. 


Adieu !  lovely  girl,  and  though  memory  will  ever 
Cast  a  shadow  of  gloom  on  the  hour  we  parted, 

Yet  I  will  not  complain,  though  I  sigh  as  I  sever, 
And  go  to  my  own  native  home,  broken-hearted. 

I  told  thee  I  lov'd  thee,  I  do  not  deny  it — 

That  my  happiness,  T-^y,  was  center'd  in  thine, 

And  observed  at  the  moment  thy  bosom's  disquiet, 
But  dare  not  conjecture  'twas  feeling  with  mine. 


"Tis  past, — fare-thee-well,  and  may  time  tend  to  smother 
The  flame  which  has  burned  so  sweet,  pure  and  even  ; 

May  those  angelic  smiles  long  make  happy  another, 
While  my  last  lingering  hope  is  to  meet  thee  in  Heaven. 


POETRY   AND    RHYMES. 


TO  NAJVJVAIL 


Many  years  have  passed  by,  and  Time  with  its  changes 
Has  silver 'd  the  brow  of  thy  once  most  sincere ; 

Yet  his  heart  is  the  same,  for  it  never  estranges 
In  feelings  from  one  who  in  youth  was  so  dear. 

I  have  strove  not  to  love,  I  've  tried  to  forget  thee, 
And  have  frequently  thought  I  've  extinguished  the 
flame  ; 

But  when  I  Ve  succeeded,  and  afterwards  met  thee, 
Like  the  moon  from  the  clouds  it  has  burst  forth  again. 

Perhaps,  if  I  saw  thee  belov'd  by  another — 

Connected  with  one  through  the  pathway  of  life, 

It  might  tend  to  diminish,  perchance  it  might  smother 
The  flame  unsubdued  by  children  and  wife. 

1832. 


POETRY   AND    RHYMES. 


LINES  OF  REGRET. 


Let  that  friendship  once  sweet  as  the  Rose, 
Like  the  Rose  fade  and  die  in  its  bloom ; 

Let  it  sleep  in  eternal  repose, 
And  oblivion  cover  its  tomb. 

'Tis  enough  to  know  that  the  chain 

Which  bound  us  will  bind  us  no  longer, 

And  there 's  no  way  to  weld  it  again 

And  make  the  links  firmer  and  stronger. 


IMPROMPTU. 
Written  at  Cape  May,  July,  1843. 


Some  love  to  stand 

On  the  white  beach  sand, 

And  gaze  o'er  the  "dark  blue  sea;" 
But  a  chosen  spot, 
When  the  sun's  too  hot, 

And  a  plunge  in  the  surf  for  me. 


76  FOETIIY    AND    RHYMES. 


A  REQUEST  OF  A  FRIEND. 


I  wish  thce  to  take  a  few  minutes  of  leisure 

And  a  Watch  Paper  draw  me,  for  T — y,  remember 

A  Trifle  from  thce  will  be  kept  as  a  treasure, 
And  prized  as  a  Hose  in  the  month  of  December. 


On  receiving  the  Watch  Paper,  upon  which  was  elegantly  painted  the 
Dial,  the  Tomb,  and  the  faithful  Doy,  with  this  inscription  beautifully 
written  underneath : 


TIME   PASSES. 
FRIENDSHIP    REMAINS." 


It  is  but  a  Trifle,  and  yet  I  would  fain 

Keep  it  long  for  the  Love  entertained  for  the  giver ; 
And  as  "  Time  passes"  on  may  "  Friendship  remain," 

Growing  stronger  writh  age,  and  ending  with  never. 


POETRY    AND    RHYMES.  77 


TO  A  FAIR  AND   VALUED  FRIEND. 


How  clear  is  the  memory  of  Joys  that  are  gone ; 

Yet  Joys  arc  delusive,  and  happiness  rare: 
Suspicion's  foul  breath  is  so  frequently  blown, 

To  scatter  in  fragments  their  sweets  in  the  air. 

With  a  friendship  as  pure  as  the  clear  mountain  spring, 
I  thought  this  destroyer  of  peace  did  not  dare, 

Like  a  viper  concealing  its  venomous  stint/, 

To  strike  in  the  dark.     "But  alas!  such  things  are" 

Let  them  pass  ;  I'm  prepared  to  receive  and  sustain 
Of  the  sorrows  and  ills  of  existence  my  share. 

They  come — let  them  come,  I  shall  never  complain  ; 
'Tis  a  Life  of  vicissitudes,  trials  and  care. 

Then  adieu  !  my  dear  friend,  with  a  feeling  the  same 
As  throbb'd  in  my  bosom  when  in  boyhood  I  met  thec: 

That  feeling  was  kindness — 'twas  friendship's  lov'd  name. 
We  part, — riylit  or  wrong,  I  shall  never  forget  thee. 


78  POETRY    AXD    RHYMES. 

TO  T**  Y  «/****  Y. 


Recollection,  how  sweet,  of  pleasures  gone  by ; 

But  pleasures  are  fleeting  and  friendship  is  rare ; 
Yet  I  secretly  feel,  and  I  cannot  tell  why, 

That  an  attachment  like  ours  may  possibly  wear. 

Our  m-eefing  was  chance,  and  had  I  been  younger, 
Unmarried,  and  in  the  pursuit  of  a  wife, 

It  would  not  have  been  any  miraculous  wonder 

Had  a  contract  been  named  for  the  balance  of  life. 

To  conclude,  let  me  add,  though  strange  it  may  jingle 
Things  that  have  happened  perchance  again  may  ; 

Should  it  ever  again  be  my  lot  to  be  single, 
And  thcc  remain  single,  keep  out  of  my  way. 


TO  SALLIK 


'Tis  true,  Life  has  pass'd  from  its  Nay  to  September, 
And  tliG  frost  of  October  has  whiten'd  my  hair ; 

Yet  my  heart  has  kept  free  from  the  chills  of  December, 
And  my  feelings  are  warm  for  the  "few"  and  Hie  "fair" 

While  I  stay  here  below,  and  thcc  lives,  and  dear  Jennie, 
(In  blessedness  single,)  don't  take  it  amiss 

If  I  send  once  a  year  (and  may  you  live  many) 
My  tender  regards  on  a  paper  like  this. 


POETRY    AND    RHYMES.  .  70 


FAREWELL  TO  ILLINOIS. 


Illinois,  adieu  to  ih\  flies  and  mosquitoes, 

Thy  black,  muddy  roads,  with  their  soil  three  feet  deep ; 
I  was  anxious  to  gaze  on  thy  beautiful  features, 

.But  in  parting  I  feel  no  desire  to  weep. 

Farewell  to  thy  dark  green  alluvial  ocean, 

Thy  rank  waving  tall  grass  and  cattle  in  herds; 

Thy  "fever  and  ague,"  creating  emotion 

Expressive  of  feelings  much  louder  than  words. 

I  passed  o'er  thy  valley  by  day  and  nocturnal, 

Thy  sun.  made  my  head  ache,  thy  moon  gave  a  chill ; 

And  I  now  write  it  down  for  my  friends  and  the  Journal* 
'Tis  myflrst  and  last  visit,  let  what  happen  will. 

I  had  heard  of  thy  beauty,  been  told  of  thy  treasures, 
Of  thy  wild  game  and  wild  flowers  "blushing  unseen;" 

I  long  had  been  anxious  to  taste  of  thy  pleasures, 
Forgetting  that  pleasures  were  followed  by  pain. 

Adieu,  Illinois  !  and  to  all  thy  pale  livers, 
Thy  lily-faced  ladies  and  yellow-skinned  men. 

I  entered  thce  smiling,  and  leave  with  the  shivers  ;  -{• 
Let  other  folks  love  thec,  but  I  never  can. 


*  Published  in  the  Ncwtowu  Journal,  1847. 
f  Fever  and  ague. 


80  .  TO F,T R V   A XI)    K II Y M ES . 

TO  Jl  FRIEND. 


Another  year  has  passed 
Since  we  met  and  parted  last 

On  the  shore  of  the  wide  surging-  main  • 
And  a  week  from  to-day 
I  '11  leave  home  from  Cape  May  ; 

Dear  R  -  ,  can't  we  meet  and  part  again  ? 

1856. 


LETTER  TO  MY  DEAR    WIFE 
MARCH  23,  1851. 


I  have  just  torn  the  seal  from  thy  last  pleasant  letter, 
And  I  cannot  help  loving  thee  better  and  Letter ; 
'Tis  true  that  thy  cheeks  are  not  now  quite  so  red 
As  in  "  spring-time"  they  were  (when  we  ought  to  have 

wed)  ; 

'Tis  true  that  thy  temples  with  furrows  are  filling, 
And  the  zone  of  thy  bosom  of  snow  not  so  killing 
As  when  in  my  boyhood  I  thought  with  delight 
To  have  made  it  my  pillow  to  rest  on  at  night  ; 
Yet  thy  eyes  are  the  same,  thy  voice  yet  all  sweetness, 
Thy  smile  still  bewitching,  thy  person  all  neatness ; 
Thy  mind  richly  stored.     But  enough, — I  've  no  time 
To  make  myself  foolish  in  writing  more  rhyme. 


POETRY    AND    RHYMES.  81 

Suffice  it,  I'm  candid,  the  mischief  thee's  done, — 
I'm  a  "used  up  old  chap"  and  can't  live  alone ; 
Then  take  pity  on  me,  my  lovely  sweet  Ann, 
And  make  me  a  happy,  contented  old  man. 


LINES 

Written  in  my   Young  Friend  Julia'1  s  Album. 


On  the  lack  of  this  look,  in  gold  leaf,  I  see 
"  The  Album  of  Love"  engrav'd  in  a  Ring  ; 

And  after  some  forty  have  sung  "  Love"  to  thce, 
An  old  man  of  sixty  is  last  asked  to  sing. 

Well,  Julia,  dear  girl,  if  my  Harp  has  the  power, 
I'll  rub  up  its  strings,  and  endeavor  to  move  thee ; 

Altho'  in  Time's  pathway,  it  seems  a  late  hour, 
For  me  to  sing  "  Julia,  Julia,  I  love  thec." 

But  don't  tell  my  "  Sal-lie"  for  if  she  finds  out, 
It  might  hurt  her  feelings,  if  it  does  nothing  more ; 

And  the  thing  may  get  whisper'd,  and  told  round  about, 
And  stop  me  from  loving  the  girls  as  before. 

And  when  I  can't  love  God's  "  last,  lest"  creation,* 
That  He  blest  the  earth  with,  and  gave  her  to  man, 

For  the  ties  of  this  world,  I'll  no  more  have  occasion, 
And  I'll  finish  Life's  journey  as  soon  as  I  can. 


*  The  good  Book  tells  us  that  "  Woman'  was  the  Creator's  last  w 


POETKY    AND    liHYMES. 


SCRAPS. 


LIXES   ACCOMPANYING-   A    PHESENT. 

Accept  from  a  silly  old  man 
This  trifling  Grift,  as  a  token 

Of  a  Friendship  strangely  began, 
But  with  me  not  easily  broken. 

Dear  Sally,  this  world  has  its  queer  ones, 
And  perhaps  I  am  one  of  the  queer  ; 

It  surely  for  me  has  its  dear  ones, 
And  thee  '11  ever  be  one  of  the  dear. 


1855. 


It  is  true  Death  has  robb'd  me  of  Two  lovely  Marys, 
I  have  buried  a  dear,  intellectual  Ann  ; 

Yet,  nevertheless,  my  heart  is  the  same,  (never  varies)  - 
'Tis  as  warm  as  e'er  throbb'd  in  the  bosom  of  man. 

And  the  heart  that  thrice  truly  lov'd  ne'er  will  forget, 
With  like  charms  before  it,  to  love  once  again ; 

And  Sally,  like  Mary,  sounds  sweetly,  and  yet 

I  can  love  her  much  better  if  she'll  alter  her  name. 

1856. 


POETRY    AX  I)    RHYMES.  83 

LINES 

sed  to  be  written  by  an  Old  Bachelor  of  our  Town. 

A    PARODY. 


I  would  not  have  a  Wife  to  rack  my  brain, 

To  worry  me  and  rob  me  of  my  sleep, 

And  scold  me  when  I  wake,  for  all  the  bliss 

That  married  life  (so  much  enjoy  'd  by  some)  e'er  gave. 

No,  dear  as  woman  is  (but  not  in  my  heart's 

Estimation  prized  above  all  price,) 

I  had  much  rather  go  without  a  wife, 

And  mend  my  clothes,  and  live  and  be  alone. 

Wives  will  not  stay  at  home,  but  go  abroad, 

And  they  themselves,  thus  running  round  the  world, 

Too  often  want  the  marriage  knot  untied. 

The  moment  she's  a  matron  she  wants  riffkts, 

She  breaks  the  rivits,  and  her  shackles  fall,  — 

That's  Woman]  and  bespeaks  her  proud 

And  jealous  —  say  not  she's  a  blessing. 

Spread  it,  then,  and  let  it  circulate  throughout 

The  world  at  large,  that  where  woman  asks  more  Rights, 

That  wife  will  show  what  she  can  do. 

1859. 


S4  POETKY    AND    IlIIYMKS. 


TO    ANN. 


Don't  suppose  for  a  moment,  because  I  love  Mary, 
(A  name  which  lias  ever  been  cordial  to  me,) 

Xor  conclude,  my  dear  Ann,  (with  a  heart  too  contrary) 
That  I've  lost  the  pure  spirit  of  Friendship  for  thee. 

'Tis  not  so, — I  still  prize — I  can't  lie — I  love  thce, 
And  my  Mary  she  knows  it,  and  she  loves  thee  too. 

Come  and  sec  us.    For  now  the  "  spirit  might  move  thce ;" 
Thee  has  many  dear  friends  here,  and  warm  ones  and  true. 


LINES 

fn  an  Advertisement  for  the  Sale  of  a  Drove  of  Hogs. 


Some  brag  of  their  Horses,  their  Mules,  Calves  and  Lamls, 
Their  Mo  winy  Machines  and  their  Corn  Cultivators ; 

But  we  go  for  Sausage,  for  Scrapple  and  Hams, 
And  fat  pickled  Pork,  fried  in  Lard  with  Potatoes. 

1850. 


LETTERS 

WRITTEN  FROM  CAPE   MAY, 

FROM   1855   TO   1867. 
ORIGINALLY  PRINTED  IN  THE  BUCKS  COUNTY  INTELLIGENCER, 


LETTER  NO.  I. 


"  Some  love  to  roam 

O'er  the  dark  sea  foam—" 

Some  love  to  stand 

On  the  white  beacli  sand, 

And  gaze  o'er  the  "  deep  blue  sea  j" 
But  a  chosen  spot, 
When  the  sun  's  too  hot, 

And  a  plunge  in  the  surf  for  me. 

CAPE  MAY,  July  20,  1855. 

Mr.  Printer:  I  have  been  in  the  habit,  almost  every 
summer  for  many  years,  of  spending  a  few  days  in  the 
hot  months  of  July  and  August  at  this  delightful  water 
ing  place.  I  enjoy  the  salt  sea  breeze  and  the  bathing. 
Their  exhilarating  influence  upon  the  whole  nervous 
system  is  wonderful.  I  love  to  dip  in  the  briny  breakers 
at  11  o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  some  two  or  three 
thousand  of  the  chequered  mass  of  human  beings  who 
go  in  to  bathe  at  that  hour,  for  in  addition  to  the  pleasure 
it  affords,  it  has  a  tendency  to  whet  up  the  appetite  for 
dinner,  and  make  a  man  in  a  good  humor  with  himself 
and  all  around  him.  Every  one's  taste  can  be  suited 
here,  for  every  grade  in  society  is  represented.  I  have 
visited  jSTewport,  Saratoga,  Long  Branch,  Deal,  Squan, 
Ilawkcn,  Atlantic  City  and  Coney  Island ;  but  Cape  May, 
in  my  humble  opinion,  is  far  ahead  of  them  all,  to  spend 

ii  few   days   pleasantly.     Here  you  have  the  world  of 

K 


88  LETTERS    FKOM    CAPE    MAY. 

mankind  in  a  nut-shell,  or  in  other  words,  a  birdTs-cye 
view  of  society  in  all  its  different  shades,  grades  and 
fashions.  Here  you  have  the  real  lady  and  the  real 
gentleman,  and  here  you  see  the  would-be  angelic  crea 
tures  sweeping  the  streets  with  their  elegant  dresses,  and 
their  bonnets  tied  to  the  backs  of  their  heads,  while  the 
Imlry  man  from  the  city,  with  his  pants  imitating  the 
nicest  kind  of  patch-work,  of  different  colors,  comes  in 
for  a  share  of  notice.  Mr.  Printer,  I  sat  at  the  dinner 
table  yesterday  opposite  one  of  these  specimens  of  the 
male  sex,  with  red  hair,  three  inches  long,  all  over  his 
face  and  around  his  mouth.  After  he  had  been  waited 
on  through  the  first  three  courses,  the  creature  called  out 
"  wai-t-a-r,  wai-t-a-r,  bring  me  a  glass  of  milk."  It  was 
quickly  brought  to  order  and  drank  off,  after  some  diffi 
culty  in  finding  his  mouth,  but  the  operation  turned  the 
hair  around  his  shaggy  inlet  perfectly  white,  forming  a 
most  interesting  semi-circle  of  two  inches  in  diameter. 
He  next  called  for  a  saucer  of  rice  pudding,  and  com 
menced  filling  in  with  a  four-pronged  fork,  terminating 
his  dinner  with  a  glass  of  champagne,  which  again 
changed  the  color  of  his  moustache.  But  enough, — I 
arose  from  the  table,  and  left  this  beautiful  model  of 
mankind  to  fascinate  the  lovely  creature  that  sat  by  his 
side.  *  *  *  *  * 


To-day,  at  the  hour,  I  walked  in  the  ocean, 
Where  the  white  foaming  breakers  are  always  in  motion : 
A  thousand  beside  me,  each  dressed  to  their  liking, 
Were  jumping  and  kicking,  and  squealing  and  striking; 


LKTTKKS    FROM    CAPE    MAY.  89 

'Twas  a  wonderful  medley — such  swimming  and  splash 
ing, 

As  the  unruly  waves  came  rolling  and  dashing; 
And  now  and  anon  did  a  merciless  breaker 
Display  a  fair  form  as  it  came  from  its  maker. 
Here,  ladies  don't  blush  when  they  get  in  the  water, 
And  all  are  delighted — wife,  mother  and  daughter ; 
Even  unmarried  aunties  it  don't  put  the  shock  on, 
For  they'll  dash  up  against  you  with  barely  a  frock  on. 
3)iit  old  maids  will  do,  'mid  the  foaming  surf's  roar, 
Some  things,  rather  funny,  they  wouldn't  on  shore ! 
Yet  such  is  the  fashion-  -aunt,  sister  and  coz, 
When  they  go  to  see  Rome,  must  do  as  Rome  does. 
Mr.  Printer,  I  tell  you,  if  you  ever  come  here 
And  bathe  with  the  angels,  'twill  make  you  feel  queer. 

'Tis  the  height  of  the  season,  and  Hops  are  not  few, 
With  the  rolling  of  ten-pins,  and  "pistols  for  two ;" 
A  drive  down  the  beach,  and  a  ride  to  Cold  Spring, 
A  walk  to  Mount  Vernon,  is  the  every-day  thing ; 
Thus  to  fill  up  the  time  we  have  various  sports, 
And  fancies,  and  fashions,  and  folks  of  all  sorts ; 
Cape  Town  is  all  mirth,  animation  and  glee, 
And  vessels  and  sails  give  a  charm  to  the  sea. 
Here  are  five  thousand  mortals  of  the  human  creation, 
From  sundry  parts  of  this  great  Yankee  nation ; 
They  all  find  good  fare — and  five  thousand  more 
Will  be  well  entertained  if  they  visit  this  shore. 
The  "Columbia,"  "Atlantic,"  the  "Centre,"  the  "Hall," 
"Mount  Vernon,"  the  "Mansion,"  are  none  of  them  full. 
There  are  twelve  other  houses,  for  lodging  and  food, 


90  LETTERS    FROM    CAPE    MAY. 

(I'll  not  mention  drinking)  all  equally  good  ; 
The  charges  are  one  to  two-fifty  per  day- 
Drop  the  types,  Mr.  Printer,  and  come  to  Cape  May. 

Your  friend  from 

NEWTOWN. 


LETTER  JVO.  II. 


CAPE  ISLAXD,  July  19th,  1857. 

Some  love  to  stand 

On  the  white  beach  sand, 

And  gaze  o'er  the  "  dark  blue  sea  j" 
But  a  chosen  spot, 
When  the  sun's  too  hot, 

And  a  plunge  in  the  SURF  for  me. 

Messrs.  Editors  : 

Two  years  have  passed  on  down  the  current  of  Time, 
Since  I  wrote  you  a  letter,  from  Cape  May,  in  rliymc, 
And,  if  no  objection,  I'll  mend  up  my  pen, 
Take  down  the  Old  Harp  and  try  once  again ; 
Although  you  may  laugh,  and  your  readers  laugh  too, 
I  Ve  been  laughed  at  before,  and  (I  think)  so  have  you ; 
But  Poets  and  Printers  are  a  part  of  creation 
Whose  business  it  is  to  enlighten  the  nation ; 
Your  "intelligent"  readers  will  therefore  keep  quiet, 
While  we  give  them  some  music,  or  come  pretty  nigh  it. 

McMakin  still  keeps  the  "Atlantic  Hotel," 
And  he  charges  the  same,  and  feeds  quite  as  well 


LETTERS    FROM    CAPE    MAY.  91 

As  when  last  I  was  here. — and  the  waves  of  the  sea 
Still  lash  the  white  shore  of  "the  land  of  the  Free." 

Last  night  was  a  sweet  one — the  tide  had  run  low, 
And  a  walk  down  the  beach  seem'd  to  be  "all  the  go." 
I  said  to  my  wife,  as  the  wdiite  sand  wre  trod, 
Xo  one  can  walk  here,  and  say  there's  no  God; 
For  the  broad  Ocean's  wave  and  Niagara's  Fall 
Make  man  in  his  work-shop  feel  very  small ; 
These  things  are   not   chance — there's   a   "  great  First 

Cause" 

Which  regulates  Xature,  and  all  Nature's  Laws; 
And  the  man  who  can  look  o'er  the  dark  rolling  sea 
And  not  feel  Ms  littleness,  is  no  man  for  me. 

The  town's  filling  up,  and  Fashion's  the  order — 
The  Ladies  wear  frocks  much  the  same,  only  broader  ; 
They  aim  to  be  round,  well  hoop'd  and  long  skirted, 
And  look  very  much  like  a  funnel  inverted ; 
They  sweep  the  street  stately  and  soil  their  fine  clothes, 
But  you  can 't  see  an  ankle,  or  tread  on  their  toes  ; 
Except,  when  the  hour  for  bathing  comes  round, 
When  the  beauties  of  nature,  in  nature  abound. 
'Tis  a  scene  of  rare  sport,  and  but  few  of  the  crowd 
Can  witness  the  bath  scene,  and  not  laugh  aloud. 
The  old  and  the  young,  the  short  and  the  tall, 
The  fat  and  the  lean,  the  large  and  the  small, 
All  rigg'd  to  their  fancy — some  white,  red  and  green, 
In  their  very  best  humor,  enliven  the  scene ; 
But  I  shall  not  be  particular,  under  this  head, 
For  when  I  last  wrote  you,  there  was  enough  said. 


U2  LETTERS    FROM    CAPE    MAY. 

Those  who  visit  the  shove,  all  seem  to  agree, 
Their  greatest  delight  is  to  lathe  in  the  sea. 

We  have  "hairy  swells"  here,  with  mouths  only  found 
By  taking  their  fingers  and  feeling  around ; 
They  have  hair  round  the  Z//JS,  round  the  chin  to  the 

throat, 

And  greatly  resemble  a  masculine  fjoat ; 
They  go  in  for  juleps,  segars — and  'tis  rare 

(In  the  height  of  good  humor)   if  you  don't  hear  them 
swear. 

Here  lovers  are  seen,  arm-in-arm,  slow  in  motion, 
Who  "promenade  all"  every  night,  near  the  ocean  ; 
I  have  marked  them,  and  know,  by  sure  indications, 
As  their  lips  come  together,  they  feel  like  relations  ; 
How  sweet  is  that  moment! — 'Tis  a  cup  full  of  bliss, 
When  the  question  is  yopjfd,  and  the  fair  one  says — Yes  ! 
I've  drank  of  tJiis  cup,  and  I  know  what  I  say, — 
'Tis  a  sweet  promenade  on  the  beach  at  Cape  May. 

All  grades  of  humanity  seem  here  allured — 
Some  to  pass  away  Time,  and  some  to  get  cured, 
Some  to  pick  up  a  shilling,  some  to  spend  what  they  have; 
Some  come  to  pick  pockets,  and  some  come  to  thieve  ; 
But,  of  all  who  come  here,  two  out  of  three 
Come  here  to  be  seen,  or  come  here  just  to  see. 

The  "  Vernon"  and  "Mansion"  have  both  been  burned 

down, 

And  the  vacancy  makes  quite  a  hole  in  the  town ; 
But  we've  plenty  of  room  for  a  few  thousand  more, 


LETTERS   FROM    CAPE    MAY.  93 

And  lots  of  2^ovisions  and  liquor  in  store. 

I  like  the  "Atlantic,"  and  I  also  like  Mac; 

lie's  a  wliole-soul'd  fellow,  and  his  house  is  the  crack .; 

His  charge,  with  no  extras,  (as  long  as  you  stay,) 

Twelve  dollars  a  week,  or  two  for  each  day. 

And  now,  Mr.  Printer,  I  bid  you  good-bye, — 

Come  plunge  in  the  breakers,  or  answer  me,  why  ? 


LETTER  NO,  IIL 


€APE  ISLAXD,  July  14th,  1858, 


"  Some  love  to  roam 

O'er  the  dark  sea  foam"  — 


Some  love  to  stand 

On  the  white  beach  sand, 

And  gaze  o'er  the  "dark  blue  sea;" 
But  a  chosen  spot, 
When  the  sun's  too  hot, 

And  a  plunge  in  the  SURF  for  me. 


Once  more,  Mr.  Printer,  the  heat  of  the  season 

Has  drawn  many  thousands  at  Cape  May  together, 

And  I  with  the  rest  (give  the  general  reason) 
'Come  here  to  get  V&&1, — (I'm  too  fat  for  hot  weather.) 


94  LETTERS   FROM    CAPE    MAY. 

Things  look  much  the  same  as  in  July  last  year, — 
The  landlords  and  helps  arc,  as  usual,  quite  clever; 

Both  ladies  and  shell-fish  are  plenty,  though  dear, 
But  when  fixed  up,  with  taste,  as  inviting  as  ever. 

Our  time  is  employed,  as  I've  told  you  before, 
In  bathing,  and  eat  in  f/,  and  riding  and  walking : 

And  lovers  are  seen,  in  the  evening,  on  shore, 

Arm-in-arm,  step  by  step,  most  impressively  talking. 

Last  evening  in  taking  my  stroll,  all  alone, 
I  pass'd  by  a  pair  of  the  turtle  dove  order ; 

The  cliap  had  a  sorrel  beard  nine  inches  grown — 

The  lady  was  hoop'd  like  a  hogshead,  though  broader. 

Let  all  have  their  way,  each  one  to  his  liking — 
Most  fashions  will  change  in  a  very  few  years  ; 

Yet  love  has  a  feature  changeless  and  striking — 
When  the  answer  is  yes,  the  eyes  swim  in  tears. 

But  I  will  not  attempt,  in  a  letter  of  rhymes, 
To  tell  all  the  goes  in  this  miniature  sphere : 

We  spend  money  freely — not  a  word  of  hard  times; 
Yet,  how  some  get  the  money,  is  certainly  queer. 

"  Who's  that  charming  creature  on  yon  cushioned  settee?" 
(Said  a  swell  to  a  lady  of  stripe  number  one.) 

"  That  female,  your  charmer — that  beautiful  she 
Is  a  store-keeper  s  girl,  whose  company  I  shun. 

"  These  would-be1  s  come  here  to  get  better  acquainted 
With  the  world,  and  pass  off  for  more  than  they're 
worth ; 


LETTERS    FROM    CAPE    MAY.  95 

And  go  where  we  may,  good  society's  tainted 
With  a  set  who  have  money,  of  very  low -birth. 

"Would  you  b'licve  it — last  summer  I  went  with  my  ma 
To  sec  Saratoga,  and  drink  of  the  water ; 

But  I  soon  got  disgusted  with  the  fashions,  while  there, 
For  the  girl  that  led  off  was  a  shoemaker's  daughter." 

I  listened  no  longer  to  this  lass  of  Idgli  Hood; 

I  scorn  all  such  feelings, — I'm  for  virtue  and  worth; 
I  advocate  industry,  morality^  good, 

When  and  wherever  found,  regardless  of  birth ; — 

And  the  man  that  expects,  in  this  country  of  Peun, 
To  hold  up  his  head  by  his  ancestors'  fame, 

Will  meet  disappointment  again  and  again, 
For  on  acts  of  his  own  depends  his  good  name. 

Rank  has  no  footing  here  ;  we  go  in  for  merit, 
And  the  fame  of  the  sire  passes  not  to  the  son; 

He  may  wear  Pas  gold  watch,  but  lie  cannot  inherit 
K"aught  but  his  dollars,  which  when  spent  he  is  done. 


And  now,  Mr.  Printer,  I'll  alter  my  rhyme, 

And  change  the  "ridiculous"  to  the  "sublime" — 

I'll  set  myself  down  "on  the  sea-beaten  shore," 

And  acknowledge  my  blessings  "in  basket  and  store;' 

While  many  are  passing  a  wretched  existence, 

With  barely  enough  for  a  scanty  subsistence; 

Yet  the  fault  is  their  own,  eight  cases  in  ten — 


96  LETTERS    FROM    CAPE  MAT, 

If  not  with  the  women  it  is  with  the  men  ; 

For  a  man  with  (jood  health  and  proper  ambition, 

At  fifty  years  old  occupies-  a  position 

Respected  by  most,  and  asking  no  favors. 

But  able  to  live  from  successful  endeavors-, 

"  Work  hard  while  you're  young,"  be  moral,  be  saving,, 

And  you  can  have  all  the  enjoyments  worth  craving; 

Set  it  down,  when  you  see  a  young  man  stout  and  healthy, 

He 's  an  indolent  lout,  if  he  does  not  get  wealthy. 


And  now,  just  at  parting-,  one  word  for  McMackin, 
And  I'll  then  let  the  chords  of  my  old  harp  slacken: 
He  keeps  the  "Atlantic"  in  his  masterly  style, 
And  waits  on  his  guests  with  his  usual  smile. 
Compared  with  most  Houses  his  charges  are  small ; 
When  you  come  to  Cape  Island  give  him  a  call. 
Adieu,.  Mr.  Printer,  I  '11  throw  down  my  pen, 
And  unless  I'm  encouraged  will  not  write  again. 

NEWTOWN, 


LETTERS   FIIOM    CAPE    MAY.  97 


LETTER  JVO.  IV. 


CAPE  ISLAND,  July  20,  1859. 


Some  love  to  roam 

O'er  the  dark  sea  foam — " 


Some  love  to  stand 

On  the  white  beach  sand, 

And  gaze  o'er  the  •'  dark  blue  sea ;" 
But  a  chosen  spot, 
When  the  sun's  too  hot, 

And  a  plunge  in  the  surf  for  me. 


Mr.  Printer: — Again,  'tis  the  month  of  July, 

And  the  seekers  of  pleasure  are  all  in  commotion  • 
Towns  and  cities  are  thinn'd — "  To  the  shore'1'1  is  the  cry. 

The  trunks  are  packed  up,  and  away  to  the  ocean. 
Some  go  to  "Long  Branch"  and  the  "City  Atlantic," 

To  "Newport,"  "JSTahant,"  and  to  "Chesapeake  Bay;" 
I've  tried  all  those  places,  but  hereafter  I'll  stick 

To  the  beautiful  leach  and  mild  surf  of  "Cape  May." 
I  can  here  sit  me  down,  at  morn,  noon  and  even, 

'JNTeath  the  rude,  shady  lower ,  on  the  snowy  white  strand? 
And  gaze  o'er  the  expanse,  till  ocean  and  heaven 

Seem  to  meet  in  the  distance — magnificent — grand. 


1)8  LETTERS   FROM    CAPE    MAY. 

Cape  May  is  the  spot  to  spend  a  few  days, 

And  receive  (if  you're  social)  the  worth  of  your  money; 
And  it  has  this  effect — the  longer  one  stays 

The  more  we  incline  to  be  cheerful  and  funny. 
We  have  none  of  the  "sc«w,"  and  not  much  "  upper-crust" 

But  the  happy  "betweens"  come  here  for  enjoyment — 
The  chaps  who  pay  cash,  and  ask  not  for  trust, 

And  when  they  go  home  go  to  useful  employment. 

The  fair  sex  arc  here  with  their  beautiful  faces, 

But  their  forms  are  concealed  by  an  awful  extension, 
And  the  only  exhibit  they  make  of  "  the  graces" 

Is  (in  the  rude  breakers) — improper  to  mention. 
Oh !  when  will  the  time  come  when  ladies,  in  dressing, 

Shall  again  think  it  right  to  develop  their  forms, 
And  no  longer  de-form  "  Heaven's  last,  best  blessing" 

In  trying  to  rob  mother  Eve  of  her  charms  ? 

The  Gentlemen,  too,  with  their  faces  all  hairy, 

Lend  their  aid  to  embellish  the  varied  scene ; 
'Tis  true,  they  look  somewhat  ragged  and  scary — 

Not  like  men — not  like  monkeys,  but  something  between 
Oh !  when  will  the  male  sex  quit  chewing  tobacco, 

And  smoking  segars  and  drinking  mint  juleps? 
Oh  !  when  will  they  think  lemonade  with  a  cracker 

Becoming  refreshments  to  pass  between  two-lips  ? 
But  tobacco,  and  hair,  hoops,  and  hops  are  the  rage, 

And  old  human  nature  is  thrown  out  of  gear, 
The  watchword  is,  "onward"  in  this  fast  driving  age, 

While  distance  and  time  are  used  up  every  year. 


LETTERS    FROM    CAPE    MAY.  99 

But  the  supper  bell's  ringing ;  each  one  takes  his  chair, 
And  the  waiters  march  round  with  a  soldier-like  din. 

Fried  fish,  stewed  oysters,  broiled  chickens,  take  care  ! 
You  soon  will  be  numbcr'd  with  "the  things  that  have 
been." 

This  is  no  time  for  trifling — -jaws  all  go  to  working, 
And  knives,  forks  and  spoons  are  all  kept  in  full  play; 

Such  pulling  and  hauling,  and  snatching  and  jerking ! 
Every  one  to  his  month  takes  the  easiest  way. 

Xcxt,  off  to  the  leach,  as  the  sun's  going  down, 
And  the  bay  at  the  inlet  seems  plated  with  gold  ; 

The  ocean  with  shipping  is  dotted  around, 

And  joy  fills  the  hearts  of  the  young  and  the  old. 

In  the  morning  we  lathe,  &ifive  and  eleven, 

And  have  sundry  sports  throughout  the  whole  day, 

We  breakfast  at  eight,  dine  at  two,  tea  at  seven, 
And  we  spend  the  eve  pleasantly,  every  way. 

But  my  paper  is  full,  and  I've  no  disposition 

To  trouble  your  readers,  or  scribble  much  more ; 
I'll  finish  my  letter  with  this  brief  "petition," 

Give  a  call   at  McMackiii's,  when  you  come  to  the 
"shore." 

NEWTOWN, 


LETTERS   FROM   CAPE   MAY. 


LETTER  NO.    V. 


CAPE  ISLAND,  July  18th,  1860. 

<(  Some  love  to  roam 
O'er  the  dark  sea  foam" — 


Some  love  to  stand 

On  the  white  beach  sand, 

And  gaze  o'er  the  "  dark  blue  sea;" 
But  a  chosen  spot, 
When  the  sun's  too  hot, 

And  a  plunge  in  the  SURF  for  me. 


Mr.  Printer : 

Time  passes — another  year's  fled,  and  again 

We,  who  make  the  salt  sea  a  bath-tub  to  swim  in, 
Are  enjoying  ourselves,  and  expect  to  remain, 

While  the  water  keeps  warm,  and  it  pleases  the  women. 

Home  has  its  delights,  and  yields  us  more  pleasure 
Than  any  one  spot ;  but  change  gives  a  zest 

And  a  checker  to  life. — "All  work  and  no  leisure 
Makes  Jack  a  dull  boy" — so  we  come  here  to  rest. 

But  if  all  your  concern  is  to  "make  the^>o£  boil" — 
If  hoarding  up  gold  is  your  principal  bliss — 

Stay  at  home,  and  continue  your  every  day  toil, 
And  never  come  near  a  location  like  iJus. 


LETTERS    FROM    CAPE    MAY.  101 

I  'm  up  ever}7  morning,  and  stand  by  the  ocean, 

And  view  the  red  sun  seem  is  fire  the  sea  ; 
How  grand  is  the  sight — how  majestic  Ids  motion, 

As  he  rises  aloft  o'er  the  land  of  the  Free. 
How  refreshing  the  breeze  as  it  comes  from  the  breakers, 

In  the  cool  of  the  morn,  on  the  shell-covered,  shore, 
And  yet  of  its  sweets  how  few  are  partakers 

Of  this  loveliest  hour  of  the  whole  twenty-four ; 
But  most  of  the  seekers  of  pleasure  prefer 

A  one-windowed  room,  eight  by  ten,  near  the  attic, 
And  they  never  presume  to  get  up,  nor  to  stir 

'Till  the  breakfast  bell  rings — they  sleep  so  ecstatic. 
The  Author  of  all,  in  Ills  great  and  wise  creations, 

Saw  fit  to  make  some  love  one  thing — some  another  ! 
That  all  mankind,  in  Life's  various  relations, 

Might  find  enjoyment,  and  not  fault  a  brother. 


This  babbling  world,  so  far  as  mankind  is  concerned, 
Is  pictured  in  a  nut  shell,  at  Cape  Island  shore, 

And  more  of  frail  humanity  may  be  learned 

In  one  short  fortnight  here,  than  all  'twas  known  before. 


And  now,  Mr.  Printer,  I  '11  alter  my  metre, 

And  let  the  rhymes  slide  off  shorter  and  sweeter : 

Cape  Town  is  all  bustle,  and  the  throng  everywhere 
Are  filled  with  delight,  animation  and  cheer, 
And  nothing's  much  altered  since  last  I  was  here. 


M 


102  LETTKftS   FHOM   CAPE   MAY. 

The  amusements  continue,  the  ocean  keeps  salt; 
Some  drink  the  ardent,  and  others  the  malt ; 
The  tables  are  served  up  \t\i\\jish,  fowl  and  meats, 
The  richest  of  pastry  and  various  sweets  ; 
The  waiters  are  kind,  obliging  and  willing, 
Provided  each  day  you  hand  out  a  shilling  ; 
But  stop  this  per  diem — you're  no  longer  blest, 
And  if  you  want  chicken,  you'll  not  get  the  breast; 
This,  all  the  world  over,  each  traveler  knows : 
lie's  always  respected,  if  he  pays  as  he  goes. 

******** 

Eleven  continues  the  hour  for  all — 

The  aged,  the  young,  the  short  and  the  tall — 

The  father,  the  mother,  the  son  and  the  daughter, 

To  take  coat  and  hoops  off,  and  plunge  in  the  water. 

Every  color  of  costume  to  cover  up  nature, 

Every  freak  in  shape  of  humanity's  creature 

Are  fully  displayed,  for  the  billows  of  brine 

Treat  none  with  respect,  before  nor  behind-, 

And  those  who  are  careless,  and  recklessly  bathe 

Are  sure  to  be  prostrated  under  the  wave. 

******** 

But  enough,  Mr.  Printer, — my  letter's  too  long, 
I  must  close  my  epistle  and  finish  my  song ; 
But  between  you  and  I,  before  I  quite  close, 
When  you  come  to  Cape  Island,  put  up  at  Joe's — 
Joe  McMackin's  I  mean.     He's  a  "broth  of  a  lad;" 
Hisjixens  are  good,  and  his  oysters  not  bad. 
And  the  eating' 's  not  all — you  may  spend  Skfewjips 
In  drinking  ice  water,  ale-sang,  and  mint-juleps 


LETTERS   FROM    CAPE    MAY.  103 

His  house  towers  high  near  the  leach  and  the  breakers, 
And  all  love  to  come  here — even  us  Quakers. 
If  you  want  bracing  up,  here 's  the  place — try 
And  take  a  plunge  with  us — 

For  the  present,  good  bye. 

NEWTOWN. 


LETTER  JVO.    VI. 


Some  love  to  roam 
O'er  the  dark  sea  foam- 


Some  love  to  stand 

On  the  white  beach  sand, 

And  gaze  o'er  the  •'  dark  blue  sea;" 
But  a  chosen  spot, 
When  the  sun 's  too  hot, 

And  a  plunge  in  the  surf  for  me. 


Mr.  Printer: 

Six  years  have  gone  by  since  the  last  of  my  writing, 
The  Rebels  arc  wldpt,  and  we  want  no  more  fighting ; 
Though  loaded  with  taxes,  yet  money  is  plenty, 
And  boarding  per  week  rates  from  eighteen  to  twenty; 
But  if  you  want  extras — the  life-boat  and  rower, 
With  a  few  beach  excursions,  adds  j#tf0  to  ten  more; 


104  LETTERS   FROM   CAPE   MAY. 

And  yet,  for  all  that,  the  salt  ocean  breeze, 

"With  a  man  of  my  calibre,  always  agrees. 

I'm  three  score  and  ten  and  just  one  year  more, 

And  still  enjoy  a  sojourn  at  the  shore ; 

Some  may  think  it  a  foolish  and  strange  kind  of  notion 

For  a  man  of  my  age  to  bathe  in  the  ocean. 

Let  them  think  what  they  please  in  relation  to  me, 

But  as  long  as  I  'm  able,  I  '11  come  to  the  sea ; 

And  when  I  am  here,  I  generally  strive 

To  throw  off  rheumatis  and  be  forty-five. 

There  are  some  who  are  wealthy,  but  never  dare  roam, 

Will  say  the  old  fellow  had  best  stay  at  home ; 

There  are  those  who  make  market  the  length  of  their  trips, 

To  gather  up  coupons,  greenbacks  and^ps, 

And  day  after  day  toil  through  life  like  the  slave, 

And  never  quit  work  till  consigned  to  the  grave. 


'Tis  most  true,  I  can't  promenade,  run,  jump  and  swim 
As  I  formerly  could,  when  perfect  in  limb ; 
But  I  have  my  enjoyment  in  looking  at  others — 
The  fathers  and  mothers,  the  sisters  and  brothers ; 
And  when  bathing  time  comes — the  hour  of  ten, 
I  'm  riding  the  breakers  like  other  young  men. 

Things  greatly  have  changed  the  last  fifteen  summers, 
Both  in  conduct  and  costume  of  the  goers  and  comers ; 
A  stiffness  of  manners  now  seems  to  pervade, 
And  bonnets  and  skirts  are  no  two  alike  made ; 
The  hoops  and  the  water-falls  beautify  nature, 
And  the  lady  of  fashion's  an  elegant  creature. 


LETTERS   FROM    CAPE    MAY.  105 

But  the  fair  sex  look  lovely,  no  matter  how  drest — 
On  the  sea-beach  in  flannel)  or  in  silks  of  the  best; 
And  the  man  of  right  feelings  (who  is  not  to  lies  given,) 
Will  always  say  WOMAN'S  the  "best  gift  of  Heaven."  . 
I  know  what  I  say,  for  I  've  long  known  their  worth, — 
A  virtuous  woman's  the  gem  of  the  earth. 
The  sports  and  the  pastimes,  with  other  employments, 
Fill  up  the  hours  with  mirthful  enjoyments ; 
The  programme's  the  same  which  for  years  has  been  sung, 
And  all  are  good  humored,  the  old  and  the  young. 
Here's  the  world  in  a  nut  shell,  sweetly  fann'd  by  the  sea, 
And  with  all  its  attractions,  Cape  Island  for  me. 

The  town 's  fast  improving,  and  each  passing  year 
JN^ew  hotels  and  houses  in  grandeur  appear ; 
We  have  the  "Atlantic"  and  great  "Congress  Hall," 
And  the  "United  States" — much  the  largest  of  all ; — 
The    "Columbia,"    the    "Centre,"    the    "Ocean,"    the 

"  Beach," 

Where  the  best  entertainment  is  provided  in  each ; 
But,  if  your  purse  is  too  short  to  pay  twenty  or  more, 
There  are  several  houses  will  board  you  much  lower. 
The  many  hotels  make  a  pleasing  variety, 
Calculated  to  fit  all  the  grades  of  society. 

The  railroad,  just  finished,  now  opens  the  way 
To  come,  take  a  bath,  and  return  the  same  day ; 
Yet,  too  true,  excursions  are  frequently  made 
By  that  class  of  society  of  indifferent  grade ; 
But  all  have  a  right  to  partake  when  they  can 
Of  a  view  of  the  ocean — this  wonder  to  man. 


106  LETTERS   FROM    CAPE    MAY. 

"So  far  shalt  thou  go  and  no  farther"  was  said 
By  the  foolish  Canute,  but  the  waves  were  not  staid ; 
Like  Niagara's  roar,  it  makes  one  feel  small, 
•And  we  look  up  to  Heaven — the  Father  of  all. 

But  a  word  or  two  more  before  I  conclude, 

As  it's  not  my  desire  on  your  sheet  to  intrude, 

Yet  hold  on  a  moment,  while  briefly  I  say 

There's  a  choice  of  locations  when  you  visit  Cape  May. 

McMackin's  "Atlantic,"  on  the  edge  of  the  sea, 

Where  the  salt  breeze  is  blowing,  is  delightful  to  me ; 

The  house  is  well  kept  and  McMackin's  the  man 

To  please  everybody  if  he  possibly  can. 

I  have  long  known  the  Captain,  and  ne'er  found  him 

lackin? 
In  being  the  kind-hearted  Joseph  McMackin. 

NEWTOWN. 
July  17,  1866. 


A     000  1 68  940     5 


